
n*x Y\Xilji 



Book 









(flight N°_.1Q<L. 



CGFYKJGJfT DEPOSir. 



Cljr feulurr ^rrtrs of CU001C0 



Webster's M First Oration on Bunker 
Hill Monument ; paper, 

I DtS. 
Macaulay's Essay on Milton 
entfl ; psper, i"> oents. 

DeQuincey's ' Revoltof theTartars 

86 oentfl ; paper, LO cents. 
Pope's -Iliad of Homer.'' Books I . 

\ I .. XXII.. \.\i\ . 80esnts; paper, 

80 oents. 
Dryden's " Palamon and Arcite." 

25 oentfl ; paper, 16 oents, 
Southey's -Life of Nelson' 10 

oentfl ; psper, 80 oents. 
Coleridge's 'Rime of the Ancient 

Manner.'' 25centfl ; paper, 15 cents. 
Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley 

Papers." 88 oentfl ; paper, ISoentfl 
Macaulay's 'Essay on Addison." 

entfl : paper. 20 oento. 
Milton's "Paradise Lost." Books 

I . rod 1 1 . 26 oentfl j paper, 1 1 
Ballads of American Bravery 

oents. 
Pope's "Essay on Man" rod " Es- 
say on Criticism." 80 cents; paper, 

20 » 
Burke's "Speech on Conciliation 

with the American Colonies." 
ents : paper, 20 oents. 
Carlyle's "Essay on Burns" 80 

oentfl : psper, 26 oentfl. 
Shakespeare's "Macbeth." AOeents; 

paper, 26 oents. 

Tennyson's "The Princess 

■ ■'■iit-. 



Tennyson's Lancelot and Elaine," 
rod "The Passing of Arthur 
■ i ate : papai 

Arnold's " Sohrab and Rustum, and 
Other Poems ' paper, 

20 oents. 

Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies 
86 oentfl ; paper, 26 oents. 

Goldsmith's The Traveller" rod 
" The Deserted Village." 80 oentfl ; 
paper, 20 oents. 

Pope's The Rape of the Lock ." 
25 oentfl ; psper, 15 oents. 

Cooper's "The Last of the Mohi- 
cans." 50 cei 

Macaulay's "Lays of Ancient 
Rome." 85 oentfl : paper, 25 oents, 

Scott's "Ivanhoe." 80 cents. 

Burns: " Selected Poems " 

Lamb: " Selected Essays " 80 oentfl. 

Tennyson's "The Holy Gxaal." 
nts. 

Eliot's "Silas Marner." 85 oents. 

Shelley's " Adonais and Alastor." 
85 cents. 

Wordsworth: "Selected Poems" 

80 cents. 
Old English Ballads. 40 oents. 

Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his 
Son. 

Keats: The Eve of St. Agnes, 
and Other Poems. 



ings (tit cloth u nit m oih ■ 



SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY, Publishers 
NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 



line, 

bur 




PHILIP STANHOPE, 

E \ 1:1. i »i ( in:- i i:i;i n.i.h. 



The Silver Series of Classics 



t 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S 



LETTERS TO HIS SON 



SELECTED AND EDITED 
WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 

BY 

JOSEPH B. SEABURY 




SILVER, BURDETT AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 






THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copif:* Received 

2 1902 

COPVRIQHT ENTRY 

'Vail *L3^ /f 02- 

CI.ASS 1 ^ xXa No. 

3 3-}// 

COPY B. 



Copyright, 1902, 
By SILVER, BUKDETT AND COMPACT 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION : 



Biographical Sketch . . . 


7 


Personal Letters as Literature 


23 


LETTERS : 






I. 


Travelling in Holland . 


31 


II. 


Honest Praise ....... 


32 


III. 


The Art of speaking correctly . . 


33 


IV. 


Honorable Ambitions 


34 


V. 


Elements of Oratory ...... 


35 


VI. 


Ostracism among the Athenians 


37 


VII. 


Attention to Reading. Description of Nighi 


' 38 


VIII. 


Civility 


40 


IX. 


Good Breeding recommended 


42 


X. 


First Rules of Politeness . . . . 


44 


XL 


Lord Orrery. Good Breeding . 


46 


XII. 


Attention and Application 


48 


XIII. 


Negligence ....... 


50 


XIV. 


Knowledge of the Country One visits . 


54 


XV. 


Virtue and Common Sense v . . . 


. 55 


XVI. 


Attention to Dress ..... 


. 57 


XVII. 


Court of Munich 


58 


XVIII. 


Caution in making Friends 


59 


XIX. 


Fitting One's Self for Public Life 


. 62 


XX. 


Idleness. Observation .... 


. 64 


XXI. 


Use and Abuse of Learning 


. 67 



CONTENTS. 



LETTBH 

wii Thi Gra< i i .... 

X X 1 1 1. Fruits 01 Minim Culture 

XXIV. Aw K\\ \i:i's BSfl kT COURI 

x X v. Good Hankers 

xxyi. Two Sorts oi Understandings 

X X V 1 1. Good Company . 

X X \ III. Conduct in >■ kxety . 

XXIX. n n<»i Irs hip. Desire <»j Praise 

X X X. Li \ i 1 1 in . Temper . 

XXXI. Systematic Study 

XXX II. Absent-mindedness 

XXXIII. Vulgarity in Speech \ni» Manners 

XXXIV. Tim: A.DORNING <>r KNOWLEDGE . 

X XXV. True Li <>< d h<>n .... 

XXXVL Religion. Morality. Character 

XXX V II. 11' onom v or Time 

XXXVIII. Clear Enunciation . 

XXXIX. Good Penmanship. Forming AcqUa 

XL. A Quotation wn in Example 

X LI. Reforming i hi. Calendar. 

XL! I. A rii \i: \\« i \n i» R] \ i.i n . 

XLIIL Earli Life 

X LIV. Rl LEfl i OB Li ii i RS «»i Bl -ink 

X LV. Employmen i "i Time 

X LVL Tin: Ways <>i ><>< n rv 

XIA'IL Rules fob Foreign Tb lvbl 

XLVlU, Mri- 1 . «»i mi. World 

X LIX. Tin: Ai; r <>i Pi r L8ING 

L. Li. \n- FOB i in- Li n kk 

MAXIMS <>L LORD CHESTERFIELD 



INTRODUCTION. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

For more than a century the name of Lord Chesterfield 
has been associated with good breeding and the accom- 
plishments of refined society. 

We picture this famous courtier a little below the aver- 
age height, wearing the self-satisfied air of a man of the 
world, his bearing studied and graceful; his bow affable 
and gracious; his dress elegant and becoming; his smile 
serene and ingratiating ; his features under absolute con- 
trol, never betraying ill-temper nor breaking into loud 
laughter. It nattered him to be known as a man of 
pleasure and fashion, a model of politeness and winning 
address. It was his absorbing ambition to please. 

As an offset to this side of his nature, it must be re- 
membered that Lord Chesterfield possessed marked liter- 
ary and oratorical ability. He was an admirable debater, 
a public speaker who commanded attention, a diploma- 
tist who brought honor npon his country. Cardinal New- 
man called him the leading wit of the eighteenth century, 
an age when wit was regarded as a decided mark of 
talent. Dr. Samuel Johnson distinctly recognized this 
gift, when he said, derisively, he is "a lord among wits 
and a wit among lords." Allowance must, however, be 

7 



8 [INTRODUCTION. 

made for Dr. Johnson's bitterness of spiril against the 
man who had spoken lightly of his dictionary. Pope, 
who had a genuine admiration for Chesterfield, paid him 
this compliment : — 

11 Accept a miracle instead of wit. 
Bee two « i 1 1 1 1 Lines by Stanhope's pencil writ.''' 

Again he exclaims : — 

'- How can I, Pulteney, Chesterfield forg 
While Roman spirit charms, or Attic wit? M 

That which especially concerns this brief account oi 
Lord Chesterfield is that he was a clear, Forcible, and 
trenchant writer, " never straining at effect, and yet never 
hurried into carelessness." His was the age of many of 
England's leading poets and essayists, — the age of Pope, 
Swift. Prior, Gray, Young, Addison, Bolingbroke, Bishop 
Berkeley, Goldsmith, and Dr. Johnson. Among these 
men, some of them his Btrong personal friends, he was 
an unique figure, maintaining an honorable rank as a mas- 
ter of classic English. Although his reputation lias suf- 
fered because of weaknesses in his character and his 
apparent purpose in life to live chiefly for effect, he is 

held by critics of good literature, as a man whose episto- 
lary writings are unrivalled for their ornate beauty of 

b1 met are. 

Philip Dormer Stanhope, fourth Marl of Chesterfield, 
was horn in London, September 22, 1 ' >« » i . His mother 
died when he was very young, and he was placed under 

the care of his grandmother, Lady Halifax, a woman of 
good sense, culture, and refinement. The father of young 



INTRODUCTION. , V 

Stanhope is described as a man "of a morose disposition 
and violent passions, who often believed that people 
behaved ill to him, when they did not in the least intend 
it." Another writes : — " We know little more of him than 
that he was an earl of Chesterfield." Certain it is, that he 
seems to have conceived an aversion to his son and to have 
taken no interest in his education. The boy, therefore, 
lacked the incentive of a father's counsel and the inspira- 
tion of his example, and grew up unparented, without 
the sympathetic cheer of those nearest of kin. The super- 
abundant use of French in his conversation and corre- 
spondence is traceable to the companionship of a nurse 
from Normandy, who taught him from his cradle. At 
an early age he showed a passion to excel in everything 
he undertook, a passion which, years later, he did his 
utmost to arouse in the heart of his son. Lord Galway, 
a general in the British army, and a man of uncommon 
penetration, often visited Philip Stanhope's early home. 
Observing in him a strong inclination to a political 
life, but at the same time an unconquerable taste for 
pleasure, with some tincture of laziness, he gave him the 
following advice: — "If you intend to be a man of busi- 
ness, you must be an early riser. In the distinguished 
posts your parts, rank, and fortune will entitle you to 
fill, you will be liable to have visitors at every hour of 
the day, and unless you will rise constantly at an early 
hour, you will never have any leisure to yourself." The 
boy accepted and acted upon this advice ; it aroused his 
ambition and had its effect upon him through life. His 
early education was given into the hands of private tutors. 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

Of this period of his life a letter to his son. written many 
years later, gives us a glimpse: — M When I was your 

age I should have been ashamed if any boy of thai age 
had learned his hook hotter, or played at any play better 

than I did; and I should not have re8ted a moment till 

I had gol before him." 

[n the year L712, a1 eighteen years of age, Lord Chester- 
field entered Trinity College, Cambridge, where he remained 

two years, acquiring a general knowledge of ancient and 

modern languages and oratory. Of special lines of work 

he subsequently wrote: — "So long ago as when I was at 
Cambridge, whenever I read pieces of eloquence (and 
indeed they were my principal study), whether ancient 
or modern, I used to write down the shining pass;i 
and then translate them as well and elegantly as ever I 
could; if Latin or French, into English; if English, into 
French. This, which I practiced for some years, not only 
improved and formed my style, but imprinted in my 
mind and memory the best thoughts of the best authors." 
His life at Cambridge was on the whole congenial Speak- 
ing of Trinity itself, he writes, "I find the college where 
I am infinitely the best in the University, for it is the 
smallest, and filled with lawyers who have lived in the 
world and know how to behave.*' In these words we 
have the mirror in which to see the real Philip Stanhope. 
In his view, to know how to conduct one's self properly 
and to behave in society of cultivated people, was a large 
pari of that knowledge which is worth having. 

After leaving college he travelled abroad, according to 
custom among young Englishmen. He visited Holland 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

and Italy. But at Paris (1714) he was in his element 
and adapted himself, apparently without effort, to the 
ways of the French. His own words are the best pic- 
ture of his life at the gay capital : — "I shall not give you 
my opinion of the French, because I am very often taken 
for one of them ; and several of them have paid me the 
highest compliment they think it in their power to bestow ; 
which is, ' Sir, you are just like ourselves ! ' I shall only 
tell you that I am insolent; I talk a great deal; I am 
very loud and peremptory ; I sing and dance as I walk 
along; and, above all, I spend an immense sum in hair- 
powder, feathers, and white gloves." 

Stanhope entered the House of Commons in 1715, a 
few months before he was of legal age. His maiden 
speech was pronounced fluent, graceful, and assertive. At 
its conclusion an honorable member spoke to him in a 
very complimentary manner of his effort, but reminded 
him that he lacked six weeks of attaining his majority, 
and consequently was likely to be heavily fined for opening 
his mouth in the House of Commons. With a low bow 
Chesterfield turned quickly away, and went to Paris, where 
he became acquainted with the Jacobite Plot. The Jacobites 
were adherents of James II., King of England, a quarter 
of a century earlier. Some of their schemes to overthrow 
the king then in power, George I., were reported to the 
throne by Philip Stanhope. A year later he returned to 
London, and, resuming his seat in the House, took part 
frequently in the debates and proceedings of that body. 

Mr. Stanhope did not possess the requisite grit for the 
wrangling and repartee of a great popular assembly. 



12 DTTRODTTCTION. 

He lacked nerve and sinew. But the chief reason why 
the controversies of the House was distasteful to him was 
his fear of ridicule. He stood in awe of one member in 

particular, a man who had the art of imitating and counter- 
feiting the speakers to whom he replied. This seems the 
more probable, for, in one of his letters to his sou, Ches- 
terfield says that "ridicule, though not founded upon 

truth, will stick for some time, and, if thrown by a skill- 
ful hand, perhaps forever.'' 

By the death of his father in 1726, Philip Stanhope 
became the Earl of Chesterfield, inheriting a fortune. He 
at once took his seat in the House of Lords, where bis 
oratory was fully recognized and his influence strongly felt. 
It was a more fitting arena for his "delicate irony, tine 
humor, persuasive tones, and gracefully flowing periods," 
than the House of Commons. Within five years he was 
acknowledged to be a leader of the Upper House. 

Upon the accession of George II., Lord Chesterfield was 
sent to Holland as the English ambassador at the Hague. 
By his tact, his finished address, his dexterity in dealing 
with men, his knowledge of Dutch history and customs, 
he did great service for his country. Returning to Lon- 
don in 1732, he resumed his seat in the House of Lords, 
where he became prominent in the defense «>1 many of 
the great measures for England's welfare. Chesterfield 
bitterly withstood Sir Robert AYalpole, lirst Lord of the 
Treasury, whose downfall was brought about largely 
through his intrepid opposition. He attacked the King 
himself, who hated him in return. In the confused state of 
foreign polities, Chesterfield was chosen to represent Eng- 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

land at the court of Holland, and he was sent a second time 
to the Hague. Having successfully fulfilled his mission, he 
returned to England. 

The most important position assigned to him was 
that of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, a position which he 
long desired to fill. Although the service lasted but 
eighteen months (1745-1746), it reflected great credit upon 
its incumbent. To have outlined a salutary policy and to 
have put it into successful operation in so short a time, 
made Chesterfield very distinguished. In 1746 he became 
Secretary of State under George II., an office which he 
resigned in 1748. About this time he writes to a near 
friend as follows : — " Could I do any good I would sacri- 
fice some more quiet to it; but, convinced as I am that 
I can do none, I will indulge my ease, and preserve my 
character. I have gone through pleasures while my con- 
stitution and my spirits would allow me. Business suc- 
ceeded them, but I have now gone through every part of 
it without liking it at all the better for being acquainted 
with it. Like many other things it is most admired by 
those who know it the least. ... I have been behind the 
scenes both of pleasure and business ; I have seen all the 
coarse pulleys and dirty ropes which exhibit and move all 
the gaudy machines, and I have seen and smelt the tallow 
candles which illuminate the whole decoration, to the 
astonishment and admiration of the ignorant multitude." 

Occasionally he was drawn from private life to the 
House of Lords, where he -took part in some prominent 
debate. The importance of reforming the calendar appealed 
to his practical good sense, and into this measure he 



11 [NTUODUCTIOK. 

threw great energy. He had bo meel Btrong popular 
prejudice, bui this he overcame, and in 1751 he was 
tul in bringing about the reformation. 

In 1762 he became afflicted with deafness, which 
increased so steadily that three years later he Baid, 
"Public life and I arc parted forever." II»- retired to his 
quiet country scat and to the pleasures of idleness. Dis- 
content and disappointment grew upon him, leading him 

to say in a pitiful and querulous spirit: — w ] look upon all 
that has passed as one of those romantic dreams that 
opium commonly occasions, and I do by no means d< 
to repeat the nauseous dose for the sake of the fugitive 
dream. 91 

During the twenty years of life which remained to him 
he sought diversion in reading, in writing letters, and in 
various games of chance of which lie was passionately 
fond. He grew moody, cheerless, desolate, but his wit 
did not forsake him, as appears in the famous jest 
regarding his friend and companion: — "Tyrawley and I 
have been dead these two years, but we don't choose to 
have it known." 

The noted French writer, Montesquieu, who- ght 

had foiled him, once said to the subject of this sketch. 
"I know how to be blind." To this Chesterfield could 
not agree regarding his deafness. lit- bore it heavily but 
remarked upon it philosophically: — "The exchange of 
letters is the conversation of deaf people, and that only 
connects them with society." 

\^ the years passed he grew despondent of his coun- 
try's Future, and took a gloomy view oi society, edllca- 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

tion, and morals. He found some pleasure in cultivating 
the pineapples and melons in his garden at Blackheath, 
his country seat. As the end of life drew near, he wrote 
(1765) : — " I feel this beginning of the autumn which is 
already very cold; the leaves are withered, fall apace, 
and seem to intimate that I must follow them, which I 
shall do without reluctance, being extremely weary of 
this silly world." 

He retained his wonderful memory to the end, also 
that presence of mind which always characterized him. 
Shortly before his death (March 24, 1773) a friend called 
to see him. Noticing him standing the earl spoke to his 
attendant in a feeble but intelligible voice, " Give Day- 
rolles a chair." They were Lord Chesterfield's last words. 
" His good breeding," said Dr. Warren, the attending 
physician, "only quits him with his life." 

In the year 1732 a son was born to Lord Chesterfield 
in Holland; he was named Philip Stanhope. Sainte- 
Beuve, the French critic, speaks of him as "one of those 
ordinary men of the world of whom it suffices to say there 
is nothing to be said." But those who knew him best- 
describe him as " a sensible, plain-mannered man, with a 
good deal of book knowledge, and with no pretension to 
elegance in look, gesture, or tone." The good traits in 
Philip Stanhope count for less than their true worth, in 
the light of his father's absorbing determination that he 
should shine in the world.- The task which his ambitious 
father set before himself was to make of this lad an accom- 
plished courtier, a foreign minister, a confidential adviser 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

Of the heir to the throne. When the boy was sixteen he 

was Benl abroad with a private tutor, the Rev. Walter 
Harte. Subsequently he entered the House of Commons, 
where he Failed as a debater, having no taste for the 

discussion of public questions. He was appointed an 

envoy at Dresden, a fifth-rate diplomatic station. He 
never rose to the heights which his father had pictured 
for him. He was not a youth of talent. Ins presence was 
not pleasing, nor his manners polished. He died in 1768, 

aged thirty-six years. 

Let Chesterfield himself tell us what he thinks of his 
son: — "As to the boy, it is partiality, but I think him 
amiable; he has a pretty face, he lias much sprightlii 
and 1 think intelligence, i'or his age. He speaks French 
perfectly; he knows a good deal of Latin and Greek, and 
he has ancient and modern history at his fingers' end-." 
Intending to send him to Paris for polish and refine- 
ment, he adds: — "I love the child dearly, and have Bet 
myself to -make something good of him, as 1 believe he 
has the stuff in him; my idea is to unite in him what has 
never been found in one person before — I mean the best 
qualities of the two nations/' 

Lord Chesterfield's literary reputation rests upon his 
u Letters to his Son,'' one thousand in number. It is 
an interesting fact that they were never intended for 

publication, but were his personal and private correspond- 
ence with his son, whose widow sold them to a publisher 
for $7875. They were given to the public in the year 
177 1. At once they t<»<.k a prominent place as models 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

of fine English, and were eagerly read, the sale reaching 
a high figure within a short time. 

The range of these Letters is wide and deserves par- 
ticular attention. They begin with an introduction upon 
the elements of geography and history, w T ritten largely 
in French, with which young Stanhope became familiar 
early in life. Passing on to Greek and Latin, Lord 
Chesterfield says : - — " You are by this time, I hope, pretty 
near master of both, so that a small part of the day 
dedicated to them, for two years more, will make you 
perfect in that study." It should be remarked that 
Chesterfield did not set that superlatively high value on 
the classical languages which was the custom of his day, 
and yet we find him saying in one of his early letters : — 
"Pray mind Greek particularly, for to know Greek very 
well is to be really learned ; there is no great credit in 
knowing Latin, for everybody knows it, and it is only a 
shame not to know it." He maintained the importance 
of modern languages, of history (especially Roman), of 
science and art. 

As a foreign minister, the over-counseled son would 
need three things : — (1) a knowledge of the world ; (2) 
elegant manners ; (3) a not too scrupulous regard for the 
moral law. To be graceful in bodily movements, to be 
chivalrous and gallant, to deliver a witty speech, to be 
brilliant in repartee, to make a fine impression, w^ere 
necessary to success at every foreign court. The letters 
are a " perfect system of good breeding." The fond father 
never disguised his desire for his son's position in the 
world : — " My plan for you from the beginning has been 
c 



18 DTTBODI CTION. 

to make you shim* equally in the learned and in the 
polite world." The Letters aim at refinement ; they end 
in super-refinement ; they polish until they seem to reduce 
the gold of a man's character to a very thin surface. 

There was an undercurrent of intensity in Chesterfield's 
nature. What he desired in his son he desired passion- 
ately. Every Btatemenl he buttressed Btrongly with tell- 
ing epithets, antitheses, contrasts; as, for example: — 
"The scholar without good breeding is a pedant; a phi- 
losopher, a cynic ; a soldier, a brute; and every man 
disagreeable.'' 

Although much of the moral obliquity in these Letters 
must be attributed to the age in which their author 
lived, there is no justification for the transparent strata- 
gem, the sordid policy, the puerile finesse, with which 
he would adorn his son's conduct. It is beneath the 
dignitv of a wise and discreet father to say, as Chester- 
field did: — "Make your court particularly and show dis- 
tinguished attention to such men and women as are best 
at court, highest, in the fashion, and in the opinion of 
the public; speak advantageously of them behind their 
backs, in companies who, you have reason to believe, 
will tell them again." 

The lack of so little reference to morality is quite 
unaccountable in a parent whose religious affiliations 

were with a leading ecclesiasl ieal order. His own 
personal character was •• .seltish. calculating, and con- 
temptuous; he practised dissimulation until it became 
part of his nature." This parental counsel illustrates 
it: — •• A young fellow ought to he wiser than he should 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

seem to be, and an old fellow ought to seem wiser 
whether he really be or not. 7 ' The art of getting on, 
the art of making one's self popular, led him to study 
the best ways of addressing a person. He believed in the 
most persistent self-restraint : — " Be wiser than other 
people if you can, but do not tell them so." A man 
who set so low an estimate upon the moralities of life, 
could easily write : — " As to the moral virtues, I say 
nothing to you. I don't speak of religion, I am not in 
a position to do so ; the excellent Mr. Harte will do 
that." 

Chesterfield almost deified " the Graces." " Remember 
the Graces ! I would have you sacrifice to the Graces," 
by which he meant the high "art of pleasing," which 
he again describes as " the art of rising, of distinguishing 
one's self, of making a figure and a fortune in the 
world." He inculcated patience, courtesy, "dexterity 
enough to conceal a truth without telling a lie, sagacity 
enough to read other people's countenances, and seren- 
ity enough not to let them discover anything by yours ; 
a seeming frankness with a real reserve." 

On the other hand, the genuine good sense which these 
pages contain strikes the most casual reader. Even the 
disproportionate emphasis placed upon trivial matters 
does not lessen but rather increases the value of the 
wise and discreet sentences. Chesterfield cautions his 
son against speaking of himself, except when it is abso- 
lutely necessary to do so. _ "But when historically you 
are obliged to mention yourself take care not to drop one 
single word that can directly or indirectly be construed 



20 [NTRODUCTION. 

fishing for prai This attitude towards society is 

quite consistent with thai taken in other Letters, where 
lie instills the art of getting on by Forecasting what may 
l>c the outcome of Baying laudatory things. In the 
former case, the purpose is simply personal flattery; in 
the latter it is personal advancement which may bring 

opportunities of g 1. 

The accurate knowledge of the country in which his son 
may lie tarrying, its geography, history, laws; tin* proper 

expenditure of money, and keeping exact cash accounts; the 

care of the body and personal cleanliness; the art of Letter 
writing; the need of mental application: the proper em- 
ployment of time; caution in forming friendships; the use 
ami abuse i>\' learning; the kind of society to frequent ; the 
use of notebooks in traveling; the secret cause of great his- 
torical events; the value of a good enunciation and the 
means of acquiring it; the importance of a good handwrit- 
ing; the different orders of architecture ; French literature; 
how to read history ; these and a hundred other subjects are 
taken up and treated as if written for a critical eye and for 
t he public to note and ponder. 

It is an important feature of these Letters thai they re- 
quire endless effort to accomplish one's purpose. Nothing 

IS worth one's while to attempt, that does not demand the 
utmost care and attention to details. The unwearied pen 

of Chesterfield himself illustrates and enforces the lesson 
he repeatedly inculcates. The lofty principle that every- 
thing COStS which has any real worth, costs in proportion to 
its worth, and costs all it is worth, has been made much of 
in these Letters. 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

The author shows wonderful insight into human nature ; 
he analyzes wdth rare discrimination the motives which 
govern men; he gives wholesome advice as to matters of 
everyday account ; and he unfolds the meaning of a moral 
quality, making it stand out boldly and attractively. Take 
for example, virtue. He first calls his son's attention to it 
as a matter of great importance. If the boy were to set to 
himself the task of writing about it, he would first consider 
what virtue is, and then what are the effects and marks of 
it, with regard to one's self. He would find that " virtue 
consists in doing good and in speaking truth." He then 
considers its effects upon others. It makes them pity and 
relieve the miseries of men ; it promotes justice and good 
order in society ; it produces comfort and satisfaction ; and, 
in general, it contributes to whatever tends to the real good 
of mankind. " Riches/ power, and greatness may be taken 
away from us by the violence and injustice of others, or 
inevitable accidents, but virtue depends only on ourselves, 
and nobody can take it away." 

In the art of illustration these Letters reach a high plane 
of excellence. Every page is illuminated by simple but 
forcible similes and metaphors, in nearly every case using 
familiar objects. Take for example this quotation : — " Vir- 
tue and learning, like gold, have their intrinsic value ; but if 
they are not polished, they certainly lose a great deal of 
their lustre ; and even polished brass will pass upon more 
people than rough gold." The writer pleads for accurate 
knowledge, as a necessary retreat for one in his advanced 
age, comparing it to a tree, " and if we do not plant it 
while young, it will give us no shade when we grow old." 



"2'J. INTRODUCTION. 

In the field of contrast and antithesis Chesterfield was 
especially Forcible. This may be shown in his favorite sub- 
ject of manner and address, when presenting himself in 
company : — 4k Let them be respectful without meanr 
easy without too much familiarity, genteel without affecta- 
tion, and insinuating without anj seeming art or design." 

Although, as is justly claimed, some of the Letters of Lord 
Chesterfield arc written from a low moral plane, in other 

Letters the author inculcates a high standard of ethics, it- 
ill the words : — u There is not hing so delicate as your moral 
character, and nothing which it is your interest so much to 
preserve pure. Should you be suspected of injustice, malig- 
nity, perfidy, lying, etc., all the fads and knowledge in 
the world will never procure you esteem, friendship, or re- 
spect. A strange concurrence of circumstances has some- 
times raised very had men to high stations; hut they have 
been raised like criminals to a pillory, where their persons 
and their crimes, by being more conspicuous, are only the 
more known, the more detested, and the more pelted and 
insulted." 

These Letters, which have stood the test of time, are. as 
a whole, models of literary finish, unexcelled in their pene- 
tration into the ways of men, in their practical good Bense, 
their terse and epigrammatic diction, their tine portrait 
painting, their keen wit, their nice distinctions of thought, 
and their comprehensive mastery of every detail of life. 



INTRODUCTION. „ 23 



PERSONAL LETTERS AS LITERATURE. 

Literature has been defined as "the collective body of 
literary productions in general, or within a particular 
sphere, period, country, language, etc." It was once con- 
fined to belles-lettres, or the product of thought, sentiment, 
fancy, or imagination, as poetry, fiction, essays, eloquence. 
In the growth of knowledge the range of literature has 
constantly widened. Some of the finest specimens of litera- 
ture are to-day found in the sphere of history and science. 
It has also achieved victories in the realm of art, philoso- 
phy, travel, theology, sociology, and politics. Who would 
think of excluding from the field of literature the works of 
Huxley, Agassiz, Darwin, Prescott, Phillips Brooks, and 
John Fiske ? 

Whatever adds to the permanent treasury of elegant 
writing augments a nation's literature. In the evolution 
of a people's life, in the broadening of their interests, and 
the increase of their learning, the scope of their literature 
grows constantly wider and wider. The man of letters, of 
science, of public - affairs, takes a more prominent place 
before the world each year. The people are interested in 
him personally, his methods of study, his home life, his 
friendships, his inner self; and the man who can tell the 
story is a recognized power and takes rank among the liter- 
ary men of his time. The literary reputation of Dean 
Stanley rests to a good degree on the high standing his 
" Life of Thomas Arnold " takes among books. 

One feature of biographical literature has of late years 



•J 1 INTRODUCTION. 

been made much of, thai is, correspondence. Many biograr 
j »liics now appear under this title, u Life and Lett rsof w 

The correct writing of letters has always been regarded 
as an accomplishment. In many cases, however, the record 
of a man's life is hardly more than a collection of his letters. 
L{ was Boswel] who said: — "I cannot conceive a more 
perfect mode of writing any man's life than, nol only relat- 
ing all the most important events of it in their order, but 
interweaving what he privately wrote and said and thought." 
Upon this principle was framed the most noted biography 
ever written — Boswell's "Life of Johnson." It is main- 
tained that this Feature has been carried too far in that 
famous hook. ( )ne easily gets weary of a man's correspond- 
ence, where every letter he wrote, no matter how ordinary 
it is, must be published. Upon some famous biographers 
rests the responsibility of establishing an unfortunate 
precedent in this direction. Tin 1 golden mean, dictated by 
prudence, demands that a man's own words, as expre 
in his private correspondence, shall have their proper place. 
In many casts so valuable is the biographical material and 
so fine tlic style, that letters are now regarded as a part 
of Literature. 

Tl e conditions of a good style are found in much of the 
best published correspondence. One is naturalness. Mr. 

ohn Morley reminds us that the epistolary charm vanishes 

in the anticipation of an audience. He severely interdicts 
the letters of Gray and Walpole on this account ; they were 
written "as with printer and publisher before them and 

the whole literary and fine world looking over their shoul- 
ders." This charge cannot be laid at the door of Lord 



INTRODUCTION. 25 

Chesterfield, as his Letters were never intended for publi- 
cation. They are the earnest, vivid, glowing, direct out- 
flow of a father's heart for the welfare of his son : only one 
person was to read them. They are utterly devoid of 
artificiality of form. Nothing could be farther from the 
mind of their author than to write for literary effect. 

These Letters show at once the value of having but one 
person to whom to direct words of counsel and of stimulus 
to good conduct. To bring to bear upon him, and him 
alone, every possible argument for the proper use of time, 
the care of the person, the importance of reading widely, 
and a host of other matters equally important, led the au- 
thor to write in most fascinating naturalness. An English 
officer once said of the Duke of Wellington, that he did not 
write as well after the battle of Waterloo as before, be- 
cause he knew that whatever he wrote would be printed; 
he w r rote with the printer ever at his elbow. From this 
embarrassment Chesterfield was totally free. He divined 
his son's needs with marvelous intuitiveness. Discarding 
all the circumventions of rhetoric, he wrote letter after 
letter with utmost ease and charm, every word finding its 
fit place in unstilted phraseology. 

Although Chesterfield's address was conciliatory and 
complacent, although he was most decorous in his fealty 
to etiquette, was punctilious as a courtier, and urbane as 
a man of fashion, he did everything in a simple, natural 
way. In his personal bearing we perceive neither the states- 
man nor the man of political power; we rather associate 
his presence with the " triumphs of tailoring," with a cer- 
tain quality w T hich is a degree or two below the best type 



26 [NTRODUCTION. 

of Englishmen. And yel all that he wascame to him by 
nature. His Letters show this charm completely. They 
are his own graceful self, his native ways transferred to 
paper. He defines Letters as "familiar conversations be- 
tween absent friends." Addressing his Bon he Bays: — 
" When you write me, suppose yourself conversing freely 
with me by the fireside/' and again, u Let me Bee more <•♦ 
yourself in your letters." To this touchstone he brought 
his own style. He showed himself, not in mannerii 
hut in most enchanting fluency, euphony, and felicity. It 
was the man himself infusing his intense nature into his 
task, which was, to Bay thai which it was his duty and 
hi> willing purpose to say, in as pithy and readable a man- 
ner as possible. Chesterfield gives the firsl quality of good 
tetter writing its true place in these words. " Letters should 
he easy and natural, and convey to the persons to whom 
we send them, just what we should say to the persons if 
we were witli them." And again, in speaking of the Letters 
of two French ladies, he says: — "They are so natural, 
they seem to be the extempore conversations of two people 
of wit, rather than letters, which are commonly studied. 
though they ought not to be so." 

Another element of good style found in these letters 
vigor: not vivacity only, nor rapidity of movement, nor 
force of diction, but vivid, poignant, incisive English. 
The thought is animated, and its phrasing in perfect ad- 
justment to its many turns and shades. "I am not writ- 
ing poetry, but useful reflections," says Chesterfield. 
(i ranted that, in the judgment of wise men. many of his 
"reflections" were not always of the mosl "useful" 



INTRODUCTION. 27 

to him they were weighty, and they were written with all 
the gravity of a moralist, or a man who was trying to launch 
f.ome great reform. So distinct was his aim and deter- 
mined his will, that every sentence teems with force. It 
sometimes provokes a smile that this noble Lord should 
write with such serious animation on so many minor 
matters. It has something of the same effect as Eufus 
Choate's impassioned eloquence in defense of his client's 
right to a side-saddle, which convulsed the court. 1 But 
viewing life from Chesterfield's standpoint, noting the 
vigor of these Letters upon matters of small moment and 
of great, we can but feel the force of his virile style. 

Another feature of these Letters is clearness. In the writ- 
ing of letters perspicuity is essential. The art of writing 
to a person is the art of saying, in a perfectly lucid way, 
what you want to have him know. " The infinite con- 
fusion," by which some writing of the past has been 
characterized, has no congenial ground in an ideal corre- 
spondence. Whateley's witticism, referring to a certain 
class of writers, will not apply here : — " They aim at 
nothing and hit it." Chesterfield's Letters have a distinct 
purpose; they may be classified according to subjects. 
He enjoined the utmost care in the form; having deter- 
mined what he should say, it was essential that the phras- 
ing of the letter be fitting : — "Let your letter be written as 
accurately as you are able — I mean with regard to lan- 
guage, grammar, and stops ; for as to the matter of it the 
less trouble you give yourself the better it will be." He 
held up before his son models of letter writing. He cited 
1 Phelps's " English Style in Pnlpit Discourse," p. 203. 



28 INTRODUCTION. 

Cicero as a good example of the Friendly and familiir 
Btyle. Bui for simplicity and clearness he commended tl. • 
correspondence of Cardinal D*Ossat: — "No affected turns 
no attempt at wit, obscure or perplex his matter; which 
is always plainly and clearly stated." 

Clearness in Letter writing is an essential element in two 
departments of literature, — biography and history. 

The biographer of a man of science, like Agassiz; of 
a great general like Grant; of an educator, like Thomas 
Arnold; of a statesman, like Lord Beacon sfield, gives as, 
in his personal words to friends, the exact language oi the 
man of whom he writes. They are in mosl cases the 
(dearest style of those very men. They are often their 
best style. Oftentimes a scientific man will give a popu- 
lar turn to a statement of his in one of his letters, which 
lit- {'ails to do in a treatise. The requesl of Matthew 
Arnold, that his life should not be written, was respected, 
but his letters have been published. They are specimens 
of (dioice writing; in clearness of style, they are supe- 
rior to some portions of his controversial works, and are, 
in their transparency, vastly superior to much of his 
po<dry. 

The element of clearness in letters greatly enhances the 
w<»rk of the historian, also. In the year 1895, the Trus- 
tees of tin- British Museum published a volume of letters, 
facsimiles of royal and historical autographs, gathered 
together from many centuries. They present invaluable 
historic material. Much of this is given in connected 
and related form, upon which the historian with trained 
intellect readily seizes, as of immense value. Lord Bacon 



INTRODUCTION. 29 

says : — " Letters are the best materials for history, and 
to a diligent reader, the best histories in themselves." 
This is the utterance of a great mind, emphasizing the 
value of letters as a treasury of historic truth. Written in a 
familiar style, they are lucid, and the lucidity of letter writ- 
ing is one of its finest qualities. In a vein of criticism, 
Euskin writes : — " It is too much the habit of modern biog- 
raphers to confuse epistolary talk with vital fact." Yet 
more " vital fact " comes out in correspondence than in 
almost any other way. 

A prominent quality of good letter writing is beauty. 
It has been said that letters have taken their place 
among the classics of our literature. The letters of 
Mendelssohn, of Agassiz, of Lord Lawrence, of Pascal, 
are gems of literary finish. They add materially to the 
body of our literature and its ever-growing charm. 
They are dependent upon certain fundamental qualities 
of mind, upon definite and inherent gifts of the soul. 
Delicacy of mental perception, sensitiveness of feeling, 
are the materials out of which an elegant style comes. 
Add to this original thinking, and an intuitive power of 
expression, and we have, as a product, such a writer as 
Chesterfield. His Letters are so finely written as to cause 
wonder that they are made the medium for so much atten- 
tion to the details of composition. Not a pedantic nor a 
lazy line is found in them. Chesterfield illustrates the 
definition of style given by his friend, Dean Swift: — 
" Style is proper words in proper places." But our 
author goes beyond mere propriety and fitness; he seeks 
for elegance and is as particular to secure it, as he 



30 ivn:< >DUCTION. 

would be, were In* preparing a commemorative oration. 
He believed thai to introduce a Latin or a French 
phrase fedded beaut)' to his sentence, and this "grace" 
be unweariedly enjoined upon his son. 

His view of the importance of cultivating a rhythmic 

style is apparent in his own words: — 

"An (inharmonious and rugged period at this time 

Bhocks my cars, and I, like all the resl of the world, 
will willingly exchange and give \\\^ sonic degree of rough 
sense for a good degree of pleasing sound." 

So refined was the author's taste, so wide his read- 
ing, so delicate his sense of propriety, that his Letters 
partook of his artistic nature. Applying to his task of 
writing fully and adequately his unflagging industry, 
precision, and earnestness, he has left for all time a mass 
of Letters which in purity and elegance of style, are not 
surpassed by anything in our literature. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

TO HIS SON. 



LETTER I. 1 

travelling in holland. 

My Dear Boy, 

I am informed, sir, that you are about to travel, and that 
you will start with Holland. Therefore I have thought 
it my duty to wish you a pleasant journey and favorable 
winds. You will, I am sure, be so good as to acquaint 
me with your arrival at the Hague ; and afterwards, if in 
your travels you should observe anything curious, will you 
let me know ? 

Holland, where you are going, is by far the finest and 
richest of the seven united Provinces, which together form 
the Republic, etc. 2 Adieu. 

1 The Letters produced in this volume are numbered for the sake of 
reference. As edited and published by Lord Mahon (London. 1845), they 
are not numbered, but are arranged according to dates. The order of time 
is preserved in the present volume. 

2 This letter, to which no date is attached, is the first of a long series 
covering a period of about thirty years. It is characteristic of its author 
to address as " Sir " a boy of the mature age of five years, and, also, to 
instil in him a love of geography, history, and the affairs of nations. This 
letter was written in French, a translation being given here. The other 
letters quoted were written in English. 

31 



82 lord chesterfield's letters. 



LETTEB II. 

BONBST PRAI8E. 

Tonbbidgb, 1 July 16, 1739. 
Db \i: BOY, 

I thank \<"i for your concern about my health; which 
I would have given yon an account of sooner, but that 
writing does not agree with these waters. I am better 
since I have been here; and shall therefore stay a month 
longer. 

- jnor Zamboni 8 compliments me, through yon, much 
more than I deserve; bu1 pray do you take care to deserve 
what he -ays of you : and remember, that praise, when it 
i- not deserved, is the severesl satire and abuse; and the 
most effectual waj of exposing people's vices and lollies. 
This is a Bgure of speech called Irony: which is Baying 
directly the contrary of what yon mean: but yet it is not 
a lie, because yon plainly show, that you mean directly 
the contrary of what you say: SO that you deceive nobody. 
For example; if one were to compliment a notorious knave 
for his singular honesty and probity, and an eminent fool 
fur his wit and parts, the irony is plain, and everybody 
would discover the satire. Or, BUppose that I were to 
commend you lor your great attention t<» your book, and 
for your retaining and remembering what you have once 
learned: would not you plainly perceive the irony, and Bee 
that I laughed at you'/ Therefore, whenever you are 
commended for anything, consider fairly, with yourself, 
whether you deserve it or not; and if you do not deserve 
it, remember that you are only abused and laughed at ; 

1 A in.tr.l watering-place in Kent, England, thirty miles BOathoifll <'f 
London. lt< salt springs were discovered in 1006. 

- hi these Letters may i».- found reference i<> persons to-day unknown. 

rsonal acquaintances or friends "t Lord Chesterfield. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 33 

and endeavor to deserve better for the future, and to pre- 
vent the irony. 

Make my compliments to Mr. Maittaire, 1 and return him 
my thanks for his letter. He tells me, that you are again 
to go over your Latin and Greek Grammar ; so that when 
I return, I expect to find you very perfect in it ; but if I 
do not, I shall compliment you upon your application and 
memory. Adieu. 

LETTER III. 

THE ART OF SPEAKING CORRECTLY. 

Bath, 2 October 17, 1739. 
My Dear Boy, 

You cannot but be convinced, that a man who speaks 
and writes with elegance and grace ; who makes choice 
of good words; and adorns and embellishes the subject, 
upon which he either speaks or writes, will persuade better, 
and succeed more easily in obtaining what he wishes, than 
a man who does not explain himself clearly; speaks his 
language ill ; or makes use of low and vulgar expressions ; 
and who has neither grace nor elegance in anything that 
he says. ISTow it is by rhetoric that the art of speaking 
eloquently is taught ; and though I cannot think of ground- 
ing you in it as yet, I would wish, however, to give you an 
idea of it suitable to your age. 3 

The first thing you should attend to is, to speak whatever 
language you do speak, in its greatest purity, and according 
to the rules of grammar; nor make use of words which are 

1 Michael Maittaire (1668-1747) , author of works on classic antiquity. 
He was of French extraction. 

2 A town in Somersetshire, one of the leading watering-places in 
England. Its saline springs were~ noted in Roman times. Bath was a 
place of resort as early as the first century. 

3 The hopelessness of such a task is apparent when it is remembered 
that Philip Stanhope was at this time seven years of age. 

D 



34 LoKD chesterfield's letters. 

not really words, This is doI all; for no1 to Bpeak ill is 
not sufficient; we must speak well; and tbebesl method of 

at tain in 1 -:' to t hat, is to read t he best authors with attention; 
ami to observe how people of fashion speak, ami those who 
express themselves best; lor shopkeepers, common people, 
footmen, and maid-servants, all Bpeak ill. Adieu. 



LETTER IV. 

HONORAliLK AMBITIONS, 

Dear Boy, 

I bend yon here a few more Latin roots, though I am not 
Bure that von will like my roots so well as those that grow 
in your garden; however, if yon will attend to them, they 

may save you a great deal of trouble. These few will 
naturally point out many others to your own observation; 

and enable you, by comparison, to find out most derived 
and compound words, when once you know the original 
root of them. You are old enough now to make observa- 
tions upon what you learn; which, if you would be pie 
to do, you cannot imagine how much time and trouble it 
would save you. Remember, you are now very near nine 
years old; an age at which all boys ought to know a great 
deal, but you, particularly, a great deal more, considering 
the care and pains that have been employed about yon : ami 
if you do not answer those expectations, yon will lose your 
character; which is the most mortifying thing that can 
happen to a generous mind. Everybody has ambition, of 
BOme kind or other, and is vexed when that ambition is 
disappointed: the difference is. that the ambition of silly 
people is a silly and mistaken ambition; and the ambition 
of people of sense is a right and commendable one. For 
instance; the ambition of a silly boy of your age, would be 
to have tine clothes, and money to throw away in idle 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 35 

follies ; which, you plainly see, would be no proofs of merit 
in him, but only of folly in his parents, in dressing him out 
like a jackanapes, and giving him money to play the fool 
with. Whereas a boy of good sense places his ambition in 
excelling other boys of his own age, and even older, in virtue 
and knowledge. His glory is in being known always to 
speak the truth, in showing good-nature and compassion, in 
learning quicker, and applying himself more than other 
boys. These are real proofs of merit in him, and conse- 
quently proper objects of ambition; and will acquire him a 
solid reputation and character. This holds true in men, as 
well as in boys : the ambition of a silly fellow will be, to 
have a fine equipage, a fine house, and fine clothes; things 
which anybody, that has as much money, may have as well 
as he ; for they are all to be bought : but the ambition of a 
man of sense and honor is, to be distinguished by a char- 
acter and reputation of knowledge, truth, and virtue ; things 
which are not to be bought, and that can only be acquired 
by a good head and a good heart. Such was the ambition 
of the Lacedaemonians * and the Romans, when they made 
the greatest figure; and such, I hope, yours will always be. 
Adieu. 

LETTER V. 

ELEMENTS OF ORATORY. 

Bath, November 1, 1739. 
Dear Boy, 

Let us return to oratory or the art of speaking well; 
which should never be entirely out of your thoughts, since 
it is so useful in every part of life, and so absolutely neces- 
sary in most. A man can make no figure without it in Par- 
liament, in the Church, or in the Law ; and, even in common 

1 The inhabitants of Laconia, the southeastern division of the Pelopon- 
nesus, Greece. The chief city was Sparta. 



86 lord chesterfield's letters. 

conversation, a man that has acquired an easy and habitual 
eloquence, who Bpeaks properly and accurately, will have 

a great advantage over those who .speak incorrectly and 
inelegantly. 

The business <»i' Oratory, as I have told yon before, is to 
persuade people; ami yon easily Eeel, that to please people 
is a great Btep towards persuading them. Sou must then, 
consequently, he sensible how advantageous it is for a man 
who Bpeaks in public, whether it he in Parliament, in the 
Pulpit, or at the Bar (that is, in the Courts of Law), to 
please hi- hearers so much as to gain their attention, which 
he can never do without the help of Oratory. It is not 
enough to speak the language he Bpeaks in, in its utmost 
parity, ami according to the rules of grammar; but he must 
speak it elegantly; that is, he must choose the best and 
most expressive words, and put them in the best order. He 
should likewise adorn what he says, by proper metaphors, 
similes, and other figures of rhetoric; and he should en- 
liven it, if he can, by quick and sprightly turns of wit. 
For example, suppose you had a mind to persuade Mr. 
Maittaire to give you a holiday, would you bluntly say to 
him, "Give me a holiday''? That would certainly not be 
the way to persuade him to do it. But you should endeavor 
firs! to please him and gain his attention by telling him that 
your experience of his goodness and indulgence encoura 
yon to ask a favor of him; that, if he should not think 
proper to grant it. at least you hoped he would not take it 
ill that you asked it. Then you should tell him what it 
was that you wanted ; that it was a holiday; for which 
should give your reasons; as, that you had such or such a 
thing to do, or such a place to go to. Then you might urge 
some argument why lie should not refuse you; as, that you 
have seldom asked that favor, and that yon seldom will; 
and that the mind may sometimes require a little rest from 
labor as well as the body. This yon may illustrate by a 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 37 

simile, and say, that as the bow is the stronger for being 
sometimes unstrung and unbent, so the mind will be capa- 
ble of more attention for being now and then easy and 
relaxed. 

This is a little oration, fit for such a little orator as you ; 
but, however, it will make you understand what is meant by 
oratory and eloquence, which is to persuade. I hope you will 
have that talent hereafter in greater matters. . . . Adieu. 

LETTER VI. 

OSTRACISM AMONG THE ATHENIANS. 

Bath, October 14, 1740. 
Dear Boy, 

Since I have recommended to you to think upon subjects, 
and to consider things in their various lights and circum- 
stances, I am persuaded you have made such a progress, 
that I shall sometimes desire your opinion upon difficult 
points, in order to form my own. Eor instance, though I 
have in general a great veneration for the manners and cus- 
toms of the ancients, yet I am in some doubt whether the 
Ostracism of the Athenians was either just or prudent, and 
should be glad to be determined by your opinion. You 
know very well, that the Ostracism was the method of ban- 
ishing those whose distinguished virtue made them popu- 
lar, and consequently (as the Athenians thought) dangerous 
to the public liberty. And, if six hundred citizens of 
Athens gave in the name of any one Athenian written 
upon an oyster-shell (from whence it is called Ostracism), 
that man was banished from Athens for ten years. On one 
hand, it is certain that a free people cannot be too careful 
or jealous of their liberty ; and it is certain, too, that the 
love and applause of mankind will always attend a man of 
eminent and distinguished virtue : and, consequently, they 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

are more likely to give ap their Liberties to such a one, than 
to another of less merit. Bu1 then, od the other ban 

seems extraordinary to discourage virtue upon any account, 
Bince it is only by virtue that any Bociety can flouriah and 
be considerable. There are many more arguments, on each 
side of this question, which will naturally occur to you : and, 
when you have considered them well, I desire you will write 
me your opinion whether Ostracism was a righl or a wrong 
thing; and your reasons for being of that opinion. Lei 
nobody help you : but give me exactly your own sentiment-. 
and your own reasons, whatever they are. . . . Adieu. 



LETTER VII. 

ATTENTION TO BEADING. DESCRIPTION OF NIGHT. 

Thursday. 
Deab Boy, 

Sou will seldom hear from me without an admonition to 
think. All you learn, and all you can read, will be of little 
use, if you do not think and reason upon it yourself. One 
reads to know other people's thoughts : but if we take them 
upon trust, without examining and comparing them with 
our own, it is really living upon other people's BCraps, or 
retailing other people's goods. To know the thoughts 
others is of use, because it a - thoughts to one's 

and helps one to form a judgment; but to repeal other 
people's thoughts, without considering whether they are 
righl or wrong, is the talent only of a parrot, or at moe 
player. 

If Night were given you as a subject to compose upon, 
you should do very well to look what the best authors have 
said upon it, in order to help your own invention: but 
often you must think of it afterwards yourself, and ex] 
it in your own manner, or else \^\i would be at best but a 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 39 

plagiary. A plagiary is a man who steals other people's 
thoughts and puts them off for his own. You would find, 
for example, the following account of Night in Vergil : — - 

" Nox erat, et placidum carpebant fessa soporem, 
Corpora perterras ; sylvaeque et saeva quierant 
Aequora ; cum media volvuntur sidera lapsu ; 
Cum taret omnis ager, pecudes pictaeque volucres, 
Quaeque lacus late liquidos, quaemque aspera dumis 
Rura tenent, somno positae sub nocte silenti 
Lenibant curas et corda oblita laborum." x 

Here you see the effects of night : that it brings rest to 
men when they are wearied with the labors of the day ; 
that the stars move in their regular course ; that flocks and 
birds repose themselves and enjoy the quiet of the night. 
This, upon examination, you would find to be all true ; but 
then, upon consideration, too, you would find that it is not 
all that is to be said upon Night, and many more qualities 
and effects of Night would occur to you. As, for instance, 
though Night is in general the time of quiet and repose, yet 
it is often the time, too, for the commission and security of 
crimes, such as robberies, murders, and violations, which 
generally seek the advantage of darkness, as favorable for 
the escape of the guilty. Night, too, though it brings rest 
and refreshment to the innocent and virtuous, brings disquiet 
and horror to the guilty. The consciousness of their crimes 
torments them, and denies them sleep and quiet. You 
might, from these reflections, consider what would be the 
proper epithets to give to Night, as for example, if you were 
to represent in its most pleasing shape, as procuring quiet 

1 Translation. It was night, and wearied bodies throughout the earth 
were eagerly enjoying peaceful sleep ; and the forests and the raging seas 
had become quiet. It was a time when the stars are rolled along in the 
middle of their course ; when every field is still, when the flocks and many- 
colored birds, both far and wide, and those which inhabit the fields rough 
with bushes, reposing in sleep beneath the silent night, were soothing their 
cares and their hearts forgetful of toil. 



40 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

and ret rr-.liin.-iit from labor and toil, yon might call it the 
I'm ,,'ihi Night, the silent Night, the welcome Night, the 
peaceful Nighl ; but if, on tin- contrary, you were to repre- 
sent it as inviting the commission of crimes, you would 
call it the guilty Night, the conscious Night, the horrid 
Nighty with many other epithets thai cany along with them 
the idea of horror or guilt, for an epithet, to be proper, 
must always be adapted (that is, suited) to the circumstances 
of the person or thing to which it is given, . . . Adieu. 

LETTEB VIII. 



CIVILITY. 



Wedta 



Deab Boy, 

Yor behaved yourself so well at Mr. Boden's, last Sunday, 
that you justly deserve commendation: besides, you encour- 
age me to give you some rules of politeness and good breed- 
ing, being persuaded that you will observe them. Know, 
then, that as learning, honor, and virtue are absolutely 
necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration of man- 
kind; politeness and good breeding are equally necessary to 
make you welcome and agreeable in conversation and com- 
mon lite. Great talents, such as honor, virtue, learning, 
and parts, are above the generality of the world, who neither 
possess them themselves, nor judge of them rightly in 
others: hut all people are judges of the lesser talents, such 
as civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable address and 
manner; because they feel the good effects of them, as 
making Bociety easy and pleasing. Good sense must, in 
many cases, determine good breeding; because the same 
thing that would be civil at one time, and to one person, 
may be quite otherwise at another time, and to another per- 
: but there are some general rules of good breeding, that 
hold always true, and in all cases. As, for example, it is 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 41 

always extremely rude to answer only Yes, or No, to any- 
body, without adding Sir, my Lord, or Madam, according to 
the quality of the person you speak to ; as, in French, you 
must always say, Monsieur, Milord, Madame, and Mademoi- 
selle. I suppose you know that every married woman is, in 
French, Madame, and every unmarried one is Mademoiselle. 
It is likewise extremely rude not to give the proper atten- 
tion, and a civil answer, when people speak to you ; or to go 
away, or be doing something else, while they are speaking 
to you ; for that convinces them that you despise them, and 
do not think it w T orth your while to hear or answer what 
they say. I dare say I need not tell you how rude it is to 
take the best place in a room, or to seize immediately upon 
what you like at table, without offering first to help others, 
as if you considered nobody but yourself. On the contrary, 
you should always endeavor to procure all the conveniences 
you can to the people you are with. Besides being civil, 
which is absolutely necessary, the perfection of good breed- 
ing is, to be civil with ease, and in a gentlemanlike manner. 
For this, you should observe the French people, who excel 
in it, and whose politeness seems as easy and natural as any 
other part of their conversation. Whereas the English are 
often awkward in their civilities, and, when they mean to 
be civil, are too much ashamed to get it out. But, pray, do 
you remember never to be ashamed of doing what is right ; 
you would have a great deal of reason to be ashamed if you 
were not civil ; but what reason can you have to be ashamed 
of being civil ? And why not say a civil and an obliging thing 
as easily and as naturally as you would ask what o'clock it 
is ? This kind of bashfulness, which is justly called, by the 
French, mauvaise lionte, 1 is the distinguishing character of 
an English booby ; who is frightened out of his wits, when 
people of fashion speak to him ; and, when he is to answer 
them, blushes, stammers, can hardly get out what he would 

1 False modesty. 



[2 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

and becomes really ridiculous, from a groundless fear 
of being laughed at ; whereas a real well-bred man would 
speak to all the Kings in the world, with as little concern, 
and as much ease, as he would speak to you. 

Remember, then, thai to be civil, and to be civil with i 
(which is properly railed good breeding), is the only way to 
be beloved, and well received in company ; thai to be ill-bred, 
and rude, is intolerable, and the way to be kicked out of 
company; and thai to be bashful is to be ridiculous. A- I 

am Mire you will mind and practise all this. I expect that 
when you are novennis, 1 you will not <>nly be the besl 
scholar, but the best-bred boy in England of your age. 

Adieu. 

LETTER IX. 

GOOD BREEDING RECOMMENDED. 

Spa,- the 25th July, X. g.1 1741. 

Dear Boy, 
I have often told you in my former letters (and it is most 

certainly true) that the .strictest and most scrupulous honor 
and virtue can alone make you esteemed and valued by 
mankind; that parts and learning can alone make you 
admired and celebrated by them; but that the | oil of 

lesser talents was most absolutely necessary towards making 
you liked, beloved, and sought after in private life. Of 
these lesser talents, good breeding is the principal and most 
necessary cue. not only as it is very important in itself, but 
as it adds great lustre to the more solid advantages both of 

1 Ninth year. - Watering-place in Belgium. 

3 In order to make up M,r the low oi time under the Julian Bystem, Pope 
ory xill. in 1683 suppressed ten days trom the calendar. The Eng- 
lish Parliament made the change in 1752, by enacting that September 2nd 
of thai year Bhould be September 14th. The new Btyle, s,» called, was 
gnated by the letters N. 9. Lord Chesterfield usually retained the 
old style ((). S.), although la- advocated the change. See introduction, 
page 13. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 43 

• 
the heart and the mind. I have often touched upon good 

breeding to you before, so that this letter shall be upon the 
next necessary qualification to it, which is a genteel, easy 
manner and carriage, wholly free from those odd tricks, ill 
habits, and awkwardnesses which even many very worthy and 
sensible people have in their behavior. However trifling a 
genteel manner may sound, it is of very great consequence 
towards pleasing in private life, especially the women, 
which, one time or other, you will think worth pleasing; 
and I have known many a man, from his awkwardness, give 
people such a dislike of him at first, that all his merit could 
not get the better of it afterwards. Whereas a genteel 
manner prepossesses people in your favor, bends them 
towards you, and makes them wish to like you. Awkward- 
ness can proceed but from two causes — either from not 
having kept good company, or from not having attended to 
it. As for your keeping good company, I will take care 
of that ; do you take care to observe their ways and manners, 
and to form your own upon them. Attention is absolutely 
necessary for this, as indeed it is for everything else, and a 
man without attention is not fit to live in the world. When an 
awkward fellow first comes into a room, it is highly probable 
that his sword gets between his legs and throws him down, 
or makes him stumble, at least. When he has recovered 
this accident, he goes and places himself in the very place of 
the whole room where he should not ; there he soon lets his 
hat fall down, and in taking it up again throws down his 
cane ; in recovering his cane, his hat falls a second time ; so 
that he is a quarter of an hour before he is in order again. . . . 
There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression and 
words, most carefully to be avoided ; such as false English, 
bad pronunciation, old sayings, and common proverbs ; 
which are so many proofs of having kept bad and low com- 
pany. For example ; if, instead of saying that tastes are 
different, and that every man has his own peculiar one, you 



•I! LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTER8. 

should lei off a proverb, and say. Thai what is one man's 

meal is another man's poison; or else, Everyone as they 
like, as the g 1 man said when he kissed his cow; every- 
body would be persuaded thai you had never kept company 
with anybody above footmen and housemaids. 

Attention will do all this; and without attention nothing 

is to be done: want of attention, which is really want of 
thought, is either lolly or madness. Sou should not only 

have attention to everything, hut a quickness of attention, 

so as to observe, at once, all the people in the room, their 

motion.-, their looks, and their words, and yet without star- 
ing at them, and seeming to he an observer. This quick 
and unobserved observation is of infinite advantage in life, 
and is to he acquired with care ; and, on the contrary, what 
is called absence, which is a thoughtlessness, and want of 
attention about what is doing, makes a man so like either a 
fool or a madman, that for my part I see no real difference. 
A fool never has thought ; a madman has lost it; and an 
absent man is, for the time, without it. 



LETTER X. 

FIRST RULES OF POLITENESS. 

Spa, August 6, 1741. 

Deab Boy, 
I am very well pleased with the several performances you 

sent me, and still more so with .Mr. Maittaiiv's letter, that 
accompanied them, in which he gives me a much better 
account of you than he did in his former. Laudari a laudato 
rim} was always a commendable ambition; encourage that 
ambition, and continue to deserve the praises of the praise- 
worthy. While you do so. you shall have whatever you 

1 To be praised i>\ one who is himself praised. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 45 

will from me ; and when you cease to do so you shall have 
nothing. 

I am glad you have begun to compose a little ; it will give 
you a habit of thinking upon subjects, which is at least as 
necessary as reading them ; therefore pray send me your 
thoughts upon this subject : — 

"Non sibi, sed toti genitum se credere mundo." * 

It is a part of Cato's 2 character in Lucan 3 ; who says, that 
Cato did not think himself born for himself only, but for 
all mankind. Let me know, then, whether you think that a 
man is born only for his own pleasure and advantage, or 
whether he is not obliged to contribute to the good of the 
society in which he lives, and of all mankind in general. 
This is certain, that every man receives advantages from 
society, which he could not have if he were the only man in 
the world : therefore, is he not in some measure in debt to 
society ? and is he not obliged to do for others what they 
do for him ? You may do this in English or Latin^ which 
you please ; for it is the thinking part, and not the language, 
that I mind in this case. 

I warned you, in my last, against those disagreeable tricks 
and awkwardnesses, which many people contract when they 
are young, by the negligence of their parents, and cannot 
get quit of them when they are old ; such as odd notions, 
strange postures, and ungenteel carriage. But there is like- 
wise an awkwardness of the mind, that ought to be, and with 
care may be, avoided : as, for instance, to mistake or forget 
names ; to speak of Mr. What-d'ye-call-him, or Mrs. Thingum, 
or How-d'ye-call-her, is excessively awkward and ordinary. 
To call people by improper titles and appellations is so too ; 
as my Lord, for Sir; and Sir, for my Lord. To begin a 

1 Not for himself, but for the whole world did he believe he was born. 

2 Marcus Porcius Cato (95-46 B.C.), Roman patriot and philosopher. 

3 Marcus Annseus Lucanus (39-65 a.d.), Roman poet and prose-writer. 



16 LORD CHESTERFIELD^ LETTERS. 

'"iv or narration, when you are nol perfect in it, and can- 
not go through with it, bul are forced, possibly, to say in 
ilif middle of it, "1 have Forgotten the rest," L> very un- 
pleasant and bungling. One tnusl be extremely exact, clear, 
and perspicuous in everything one says, otherwise, instead 
(A' entertaining or informing others, one only tires and 
puzzles them. The voice and manner of speaking, too, are 
nol to be neglected: some people almost shut their mouths 
when they speak, and mutter so that they arc not to be un- 
derstood; others speak so fast, and sputter, that they are 
not to he understood either; some always speak as loud as 
if they were talking to deaf people; and others so low that 
one cannot hear them. All these habits are awkward and 
disagreeable, and are to be avoided by attention: they are 
the distinguishing marks of the ordinary people, who have 
had no care taken of their education. You cannot imagine 
how necessary it is to mind all these little things; for I 
have seen many people, with great talents, ill received, for 
want of having these talents too; and others well received, 
only from their little talents and who had no great ones. 

LETTER XL 

LORD OBBBBY. (JOOD BREEDING. 

Saturday. 
Sir, 

The fame of your erudition, and other shining qualifica- 
tions, having reached to Lord Orrery/he desired me. that 
you might dine with him and his son. Lord Boyle, next 
Sunday; which I told him you should. By this time. I 
suppose, you have heard from him: hut, if you have not, 
you must, however, go there between two and three to- 
morrow, and say. thai you come to wait upon Lord Boyle, 
i John Boyle, fifth Earl of Cork (1707-1762). 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 47 

according to his Lordship's orders, which I informed you of. 
As this will deprive me of the honor and pleasure of your 
company at dinner to-morrow, I will hope for it at break- 
fast, and shall take care to have your chocolate ready. 

Though I need not tell one of your age, experience, and 
knowledge of the world, how necessary good breeding is, to 
recommend one to mankind ; yet, as your various occupa- 
tions of Greek and cricket, Latin and pitch-farthing, may 
possibly divert your attention from this object, I take the 
liberty of reminding you of it, and desiring you to be very 
well bred at Lord Orrery's. It is good breeding alone that 
can prepossess people in your favor at first sight : more time 
being necessary to discover greater talents. This good 
breeding, you know, does not consist in low bows and formal 
ceremony; but in an easy, civil, and respectful behavior. 
You will therefore take care to answer with complaisance, 
when you are spoken to ; to place yourself at the lower end 
of the table, unless bid to go higher ; to drink first to 
the Lady of the house, and next to the Master ; not to eat 
awkwardly or dirtily ; not to sit when others stand : and to 
do all this with an air of complaisance, and not with a grave, 
sour look, as if you did it all unwillingly. I do not mean a 
silly, insipid smile, that fools have when they would be 
civil ; but an air of sensible good humor. I hardly know 
anything so difficult to attain, or so necessary to possess, as 
perfect good breeding, which is equally inconsistent with a 
stiff formality, an impertinent forwardness, and an awkward 
bashfulness. A little ceremony is often necessary ; a certain 
degree of firmness is absolutely so ; and an outward modesty 
is extremely becoming : the knowledge of the world, and 
your own observations, must, and alone can, tell you the 
proper quantities of each. 

Mr. Fitzgerald was with me yesterday, and commended 
you much : go on to deserve commendations, and you will 
certainly meet with them. Adieu. 



48 lord chesterfield's letters. 

LETTEB XII. 

ATTENTION and APPLICATION 

B vi ii, < October 4, \~v>. 
Dear Boy, 

A lthoi gb I cm ploy so much of my time in writing to you, 
I confess, I have my doubts whether it is to any purpose. 

I know how unwelcome advice generally is. I know that 

those who want it most, like it, and follow it least, and I 
know, too, that the advice of parents, more particularly, is 
ascribed to the moroseness, the imperiousness, or the garru- 
lity of old age. But then, on the other hand, I flatter my- 
self that as your own reason, though too young as yet to 
suggest much to you of itself, is, however, strong enough to 
enable you, both to judge of, and receive plain truth 
flatter myself (I say) that your own reason, young as it is, 
must tell you: that I can have no interest but yours in the 
advice I give you; and that, consequently, you will at leas! 
wci-h and consider it well ; in which case, some of it will, I 
hope, have its effect. * . . 

I have so often recommended to you attention and appli- 
cation to whatever you learn, that I do not mention them 
now as duties; but I point them out to you as conducive, 
nay absolutely necessary to your pleasures; for can there 
be a greater pleasure than to be universally allowed to excel 
those of one's own age and manner of life? And, conse- 
quently, can there be anything more mortifying than to be 
excelled by them? In this latter case, your shame and 
regret must be greater than anybody's, because everybody 
knows the uncommon care which has been taken of your 
education, and the opportunities you have had of knowing 
more than others of your age. I do not define the appli- 
cation which I recommend singly to the view and emulation 
of excelling others (though that is a very sensible pleasure 






LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 49 

and a very warrantable pride) ; but I mean likewise to excel 
in the thing itself : for, in my mind, one may as well not 
know a thing at all, as know it but imperfectly. To know 
a little of anything gives neither satisfaction nor credit ; 
but often brings disgrace or ridicule. Mr. Pope says very 

truly, 

" A little learning is a dang'rous thing ; 
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian 1 spring." 

Let me, therefore, most earnestly recommend to you to 
hoard up, while you can, a great stock of knowledge ; for 
though, during the dissipation of your youth, you may not 
have occasion to spend much of it ; yet you may depend 
upon it, that a time will come when you will want it to 
maintain you. Public granaries are filled in plentiful years ; 
not that it is known that the next, or the second, or the 
third year will prove a scarce one ; but because it is known, 
that, sooner or later, such a year will come, in which the 
grain will be wanted. 

I will say no more upon this subject : you have Mr. 
Harte with you to enforce it : you have reason to assent to 
the truth of it, so that, in short, " You have Moses and the 
prophets, if you will not hear them, neither will you believe, 
though one rose from the dead." Do not imagine that the 
knowledge, which I so much recommend to you, is confined 
to books, pleasing, useful and necessary as that knowledge 
is : but I comprehend in it the great knowledge of the world, 
still more necessary than that of books. In truth, they 
assist one another reciprocally ; and no man will have either 
perfectly, who has not both. The knowledge of the world 
is only to be acquired in the world, and not in a closet. 
Books alone will never teach it you; but they will suggest 
many things to your observation, which might otherwise 
escape you ; and your own observations upon mankind, 

1 Mt. Pierius in Thessaly, the abode of the Muses. 

E 



50 lord chesterfield's letters, 

when compared with those which you will find in books, 
will help you to fix the true point. . . . Adieu. 

LETTEB XIII. 

NEGLIGENCE. 

Bath, October 9, 0. s. 1746. 
Deab Boy, 

JTOUB distress in your journey from Heidelberg to Schaff- 
hausen, your lying upon straw, your black bread, and your 

broken Berline/are propei Beasonings for the greater fatigues 
ami distresses which you must expect in the course of your 
travels; and, if one had a mind to moralize, one might call 
them samples of the accidents, rubs, and difficulties, which 
every man meets with in his journey through life. Jn this 
journey, the understanding is the votture 1 that must carry 
you through; and in proportion as that is Btronger or 
weaker, more or less in repair, your journey will be better 
or worse; though, at best, you will now and then find some 
bad roads and some bad inns. Take care, therefore, to 
keep thai necessary voiture in perfect good repair; examine, 
improve, and strengthen it every day: it is in the power, 
and ought to be the care, of every man to doit: he thai 
neglects it, deserves to feel, and certainly will feel, the 
fatal effects of that negligence. 

Apropos of negligence ; I must say something to you 
upon that subject. — You know I have often told you, thai 
my affection for you was not a weak, womanish one; and, 
far from blinding me. it makes me but more ^nick-sighted 
as to your faults: those it is not only my right, but my 
duty, to tell you of; and it is your duty and your interest 

1 A large roar-wheeled carriage, having two seats Inside and a top or 
hood thai can be raised at will. First made in Berlin in the 17th century. 
- 1 ferriage, com ej ance. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 51 

to correct them. In the strict scrutiny which I have made 
into yon, I have (thank God) hitherto not discovered any 
vice of the heart, or any peculiar weakness of the head ; 
but I have discovered laziness, inattention, and indifference ; 
faults which are only pardonable in old men, who, in the 
decline of life, when health and spirits fail, have a kind of 
claim to that sort of tranquillity. But a young man should 
be ambitious to shine and excel ; alert, active, and indefat- 
igable in the means of doing it. . . . I am very sure that 
any man of common understanding may, by proper culture, 
care, attention, and labor, make himself whatever he 
pleases except a good poet. Your destination is the great 
and busy world; your immediate object is the affairs, the 
interests, and the history, the constitutions, the customs, 
and the manners of the several parts of Europe. In this 
any man of common sense may, by common application, be 
sure to excel. Ancient and Modern History are, by atten- 
tion, easily attainable. Geography and Chronology the 
same; none of them requiring any uncommon share of 
genius or invention. Speaking and writing clearly, cor- 
rectly, and with ease and grace, are certainly to be acquired 
by reading the best authors with care, and by attention to the 
best living models. These are the qualifications more par- 
ticularly necessary for you in your department, which you 
may be possessed of if you please, and which, I tell you 
fairly, I shall be very angry at you if you are not ; because, 
as you have the means in your hands, it will be your own 
fault only. 

If care and application are necessary to the acquiring of 
those qualifications, without which you can never be con- 
siderable nor make a figure in the world, they are not less 
necessary with regard to the lesser accomplishments, which 
are requisite to make you agreeable and pleasing in society. 
In truth, whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing 
well, and nothing can be done well without attention: I 



o_ LORD CHESTERFIELD S LETTERS. 

therefore carry the necessity of attention down to the low- 
est things, even to dancing and dress. Custom has made 
dancing sometimes necessary for a young man; therefore 

mind it while you Learn it, thai you may learn to do it well, 
and nol 1"' ridiculous, though in a ridiculous act. Dre 
of the same nature; you must dress, therefore attend to it ; 

not in order to rival or to excel a Eop in it, luit in order to 
avoid singularity, and consequently ridicule. Take great 
care always to be dressed like tlie reasonable people of your 

own age, in the place where you are. w hose (\n'>>> is never 

spoken of one way or another, as cither too negligent or too 

much studied. 

What is commonly called an absenl man, is commonly 

either a very weak or a very affected man; but be lie which 

he will, lie is, I am sure, a very disagreeable man in com- 
pany. He tails in all the common offices of civility; he 
seems not to know those people to-day with whom yester- 
day he appeared to live in intimacy. He takes no part in 
the general conversation; but, on the contrary, breaks into 
it from time to time with some start of his own, as if he 
waked from a dream. This (as I said before) is a sure 
indication either of a mind so weak that it is not abl< 
bear above one object at a time; or so affected, that it 
would be supposed to be wholly engrossed by, and directed 
to, some very great and important objects. Sir [saac 
Newton, 1 Mr. Locke, 8 and (it may be) live or six more, 
since the creation of the world, may have had a right to 
absence, from that intense thought which the things they 
were investigating required. But if a young man, and a 
man of the world, who has no such avocations to plead, will 
claim and exercise that right of absence in company, his 

1 One of the most noted <>f English mathematicians and natural phi- 
losophers 1 1642- 17J7 >. 

-John Locke. Distinguished English philosopher and thinker (1632- 
1701). 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 53 

pretended right should, in my mind, be turned into an in- 
voluntary absence, by his perpetual exclusion out of com- 
pany. However frivolous a company may be, still, while 
you are among them, do not show them, by your inattention, 
that you think them so ; but rather take their tone, and 
conform in some degree to their weakness, instead of mani- 
festing your contempt for them. There is nothing that 
people bear more impatiently, or forgive less, than con- 
tempt: and an injury is much sooner forgotten than an 
insult. If, therefore, you would rather please than offend, 
rather be well than ill spoken of, rather be loved than 
hated, remember to have that constant attention about you 
which flatters every man's little vanity ; and the want of 
which, by mortifying his pride, never fails to excite his 
resentment, or at least his ill-will. For instance ; most 
people (I might say all people) have their weaknesses ; they 
have their aversions and their likings, to such and such 
things ; so that, if you were to laugh at a man for his aver- 
sion to a cat, or cheese (which are common antipathies), or, 
by inattention and negligence, to let them come in his way 
where you could prevent it, he would, in the first case, 
think himself insulted, and, in the second, slighted, and 
would remember both. Whereas your care to procure for 
him what he likes, and to remove from him what he hates, 
shows him that he is at least an object of your attention; 
flatters his vanity, and makes him possibly more your 
friend, than a more important service would have done. 
With regard to women, attentions still below these are 
necessary, and, by the custom of the world, in some meas- 
ure due, according to the laws of good breeding. 

My long and frequent letters which I send you, in great 
doubt of their success, put me in mind of certain papers 
which you have very lately, and I formerly, sent up to 
kites, along the string, which we called messengers ; some 
of them the wind used to blow away, others were torn by 



54 lord chesterfield's letters. 

the string, and bul few of them gol up and stuck to the 

kite, Bui 1 will content myself now, as I did then, if sonic 

of my present messengers do but stick to yon. Adieu. 

LETTEB XIV. 

KNOWLEDGE OF THE COUNTRY ONE VISITS. 

London, December 2, ( >. B. 171<). 
1 )i: \i: Boy, 

I save not, in my present situation, 1 time to write to 
you, either so much or so often as I used, while I was in 
a place of so much more leisure and profit: 2 but my affec- 
tion for you must not be judged of by the number of my 
letters ; and, though the one lessens, the other, I assure 
you, does not. 

I have just now received your letter of the 25th past, 
N. 8., and, by the former post, one from Mr. Harte, with 
both which I am very well pleased: with Mr. Harte's, for 
the good account which he gives me of you: with yours, 
for the good, account you give me of what I desired to be 
informed of. Pray continue to give me further information 
of the form of government of the country you are now in ; 
which 1 hope you will know most minutely before you leave 
it. The inequality of the town of Lausanne 3 seems to be 
very convenient in this cold weather ; because going up hill 
and down will keep you warm. — You say there is a good 
deal of good company; pray, are you got into it ? Have 
you made acquaintances, and with whom'/ Let me know 
some of their mimes. Do you learn German yet, to read, 
write, and speak it ? 

Yesterday, I saw a letter from Monsieur Bochat. 4 to a 

is Secretary of state. 
- As Lord-lientenanl of Ireland. 

\ in Vand canton, on Lake Geneva, Switzerland. 
4 a Frenchman, an acquaintance of Chesterfield. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 55 

friend of mine, which gave me the greatest pleasure that 
I have felt this great while, because it gives so very good 
an account of you. Among other things which Monsieur 
Bochat says to your advantage, he mentions the tender 
uneasiness and concern that you showed during my illness ; 
for which (though I will say that you owe it me) I am 
obliged to you ; sentiments of gratitude not being universal, 
nor even common. As your affection for me can only pro- 
ceed from your experience and conviction of my fondness 
for you (for to talk of natural affection is talking non- 
sense), the only return I desire is, what it is chiefly your 
interest to make me ; I mean, your invariable practice of Vir- 
tue, and your indefatigable pursuit of Knowledge. Adieu ! 
and be persuaded that I shall love you extremely while you 
deserve it, but not one moment longer. 



LETTER XV. 

VIRTUE AND COMMON SENSE. 

London, March 6, O. S. 1747. 
Dear Boy, 

Whatever you do will always affect me very sensibly 
one way or another ; and I am now most agreeably affected 
by two letters which I have lately seen from Lausanne, 
upon your subject ; the one was from Madame St. Germain, 1 
the other from Monsieur Pampigny 1 : they both give so 
good an account of you, that I thought myself obliged, in 
justice both to them and to you, to let you know it. Those 
who deserve a good character ought to have the satisfaction 
of knowing that they have it, both as a reward and as an 
encouragement. They write, that you are not only decrotte, 2 
but tolerably well-bred ; and that the English crust of 

1 Friends of Lorxl Chesterfield, living in Paris. 

2 With the dirt rubbed off: clean. 



56 LORD CHBfi PBBFIBLD8 LETTERS. 

awkward bashf illness, shynrss, and roughness (of winch, by 

the by, you had your Bhare), is pretty well rubbed oil". I 
am most heartily glad of it; for, as I have often told yon. 
those lesser talents, of an engaging, insinuating manner, an 
easy good breeding, a genteel behavior and address, are of 
infinitely more advantage than they are generally thought to 

lu\ especially here in England. Virtue and learning, like 

gold, have their intrinsic value ; but it' they are not polished, 

they certainly lose a great deal of their lustre: and even 
polished brass will pass niton more people than rough 
gold. What a, number of sins docs the cheerful, easy, good 
breeding of the French frequently cover ! Many of them 
want common sense, many more common learning; but in 
general they make up so much by their manner for those 
defects, that frequently tliey pass undiscovered. I have 
often said, and do think, that a Frenchman, who, with 
a I in id of virtue, learning, and good sense, has the manners 
and good breeding of his country, is the perfection of 
human nature. This perfection you may, if you please, and 
I hope you will, arrive at. You know what virtue is: you 
may have it if you will ; it is in every man's power; and 
miserable is the man who has it not. Good sense God has 
given you. Learning yon already possess enough of, to 
have, in a reasonable time, all that a man need have. 
With this you are thrown out early into the world, where it 
will be your own fault if you do not acquire all the other 
accomplishments necessary to complete and adorn your 
character. You will do well to make your compliments t<> 
Madame St. ( Jermain and Monsieur Pampigny, and tell them 
how sensible you arc of their partiality to yon, in the 
advantageous testimonies which, you are informed, they 
have given of you here. 

Adieu! Continue to deserve such testimonies, and then 
yon will not only deserve, but enjoy, my truest affection. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 57 



LETTER XVI. 

ATTENTION TO DRESS. 

London, April 3, O. S. 1747. 
Dear Boy, 

If I am rightly informed, I am now writing to a fine 
Gentleman, in a scarlet coat laced with gold, a brocade 
waistcoat, and all other suitable ornaments. The natural 
partiality of every author for his own works, makes me very 
glad to hear that Mr. Harte has thought this last edition of 
mine worth so fine a binding; and as he has bound it in 
red and gilt it upon the back, I hope he will take care that 
it shall be lettered too. A showish binding attracts the 
eyes, and engages the attention of everybody ; but with 
this difference, that women, and men who are like worn en y 
mind the binding more than the book ; whereas men of 
sense and learning immediately examine the inside ; and if 
they find that it does not answer the finery on the outside, 
they throw it by with the greater indignation and contempt. 
I hope that when this edition of my works shall be opened 
and read, the best judges will find connection, consistency, 
solidity, and spirit in it. Mr. Harte may recensere 1 and 
emendare 2 as much as he pleases, but it will be to little pur- 
pose if you do not cooperate with him. The work will be 
imperfect. 

I thank you for your last information of our success in 
the Mediterranean ; and you say, very rightly, that a Secre- 
tary of State ought to be well informed. I hope, therefore, 
you will take care that I shall. You are near the busy 
scene in Italy : and I doubt not but that, by frequently 
looking at the map, you have all that theatre of the war 
very perfect in your mind. 

1 To revive. 2 To amend. 



58 LORD CHESTEEFIBLD'8 LETTERS. 

I like your account of the salt works; which shows that 
you gave some attention while you were seeing them. But, 
notwithstanding that, by your account, the Swiss salt is (I 

dare say) very g 1. yel I am apt to suspect that it falls a 

little short of the true Attic salt, 1 in which there was a 
peculiar quickness and delicacy. Thai same Attic salt 
seasoned almost all Greece, excepl Bceotia; and a great 
deal of it was exported afterwards to Rome, where it was 

counterfeited l>y a composition called Urbanity, which in 
some time was brought to very near the perfection of the 

original Attic salt. The more you are powdered with these 
two kinds of salt, the better you will keep, and the more 
you will be relished. Adieu! 



LETTER XVII. 

COURT OF MUNICH. 

London, August 7, O. S. 1717. 
Pear Boy, 

I reckon that this letter has but a bare chance of finding 

you at Lausanne; but I was resolved to risk it. as it is the 
last thai I shall write to you till you are settled at Leipsic. I 
sen! you by the last post, under cover to Mr. Harte, a letter 
of recommendation to one of the first people at Munich; 

which you will take care to present to him in the politest 
manner: he will certainly have you presented to the Elec- 
toral family ; and I hope you will go through that ceremony 
with greal respect, good breeding, and ease. As this is the 
tirst Court that ever you will have been at, take care to in- 
form yourself, if there be any particular customs or forms 
to be observed, thai you may not commit any mistake. At 
Vienna, men always make courtesies, instead of bows, to 

1 Delicate, refined, Bubtle wit, especially applicable to the people of 

Athene, chief city of Attica, one of the divisions of Greece. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 59 

the Emperor ; in France, nobody bows at all to the King, nor 
kisses his hand ; bnt in Spain and England, bows are made, 
and hands are kissed. Thus every Court has some pecu- 
liarity or other, which those who go to them ought pre- 
viously to inform themselves of, to avoid blunders and 
awkwardnesses. 

I have not time to say any more now, than to wish you a 
good journey to Leipsic ; and great attention, both there 
and in going thither. Adieu. 



LETTEE XVIII. 

CAUTIOX IN MAKING FRIENDS. 

London, October 9, 0. S. 1747. 
Dear Boy, 

People of your age have commonly an unguarded frank- 
ness about them, which makes them the easy prey and 
bubbles of the artful and the experienced : they look upon 
every knave, or fool, who tells them that he is their friend, 
to be really so ; and pay that profession of simulated friend- 
ship with an indiscreet and unbounded confidence, always 
to their loss, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, now 
that you are coming into the world, of these proffered friend- 
ships. Receive them with great civility, but with great 
incredulity, too ; and pay them with compliments, but not 
with confidence. Do not let your vanity and self-love make 
you suppose that people become your friends at first sight, 
or even upon a short acquaintance. Eeal friendship is a 
slow growth ; and never thrives, unless ingrafted upon a 
stock of known and reciprocal merit. There is another kind 
of nominal friendship, among young people, which is warm 
for the time, but, by good luck, of short duration. This 
friendship is hastily produced by their being accidentally 
thrown together, and pursuing the same course of riot and 



60 LORD chesterfield's letters. 

debauchery. A fine Friendship, truly ! and well cemented 
by drunkenness and Lewdness. It should rather be called a 
conspiracy againsl morals and good manners, and be pun- 
ished as such by the civil Magistrate. However, they have 
the impudence and the folly to call this confederacy a friend- 
ship. They lend one another money for bad purposes ; they 
engage in quarrels, offensive and defensive, for their accom- 
plices; they tell one another all they know, and often more, 
too; when, of a sudden, some accident disperses them, ami 
they think no more of each other, unless it he to betray and 
laugh at their imprudent confidence. Remember to make a 
greal difference between companions and friends; foravery 
complaisant and agreeable companion may, and often does, 
prove a very improper and a very dangeroqs friend. People 
will, in a great degree, and not without reason, form their 
opinion of you upon that which they have of your friends ; 
and there is a Spanish proverb, which says very justly. 
Tell me whom you live with, and I fill t<-ll you who you or*'. 
One may fairly suppose that a man who makes a knave or a 
fool his friend, has something very bad to do, or to conceal. 
I hit, at the same time that you carefully decline the friend- 
ship of knaves and fools, if it can be called friendship, there 
is no occasion to make either of them your enemies, wan- 
tonly and unprovoked ; for they are numerous bodies; and 
1 would rather choose a secure neutrality, than alliance or 
war, with either of them. You maybe a declared enemy to 
their vices and follies, without being marked out by them as 
a personal one. Their enmity is the next dangerous thing to 
their friendship. Have a real reserve with almost every- 
body; and have a seeming reserve with almost nobody; for 
it is very disagreeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous 
not to be .so. Few people find the true medium; many are 
ridiculously mysterious and reserved upon trifles; and 
many imprudently communicative of all they know. 

The next thing to the choice of vour friends is the choice 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 61 

of your company. Endeavor, as much as you can, to keep 
company with people above you. There you rise, as much 
as you sink with people below you ; for (as I have mentioned 
before) you are whatever the company you keep is. Do not 
mistake, w^hen I say company above you, and think that I 
mean with regard to their birth ; that is the least consider- 
ation : but I mean with regard to their merit, and the light 
in which the world considers them. 

There are two sorts of good company; one which is 
called the beau monde, 1 and consists of those people who 
have the lead in Courts, and in the gay part of life ; the other 
consists of those who are distinguished by some peculiar 
merit, or who excel in some particular and valuable art or 
science. For my own part, I used to think myself in com- 
pany as much above me, when I was with Mr. Addison 2 and 
Mr. Pope, 3 as if I had been with all the princes in Europe. 
What I mean by low company, which should by all means 
be avoided, is the company of those who, absolutely insig- 
nificant and contemptible in themselves, think they are 
honored by being in your company, and who flatter every 
vice and every folly you have, in order to engage you to 
converse with them. The pride of being the first of the 
company is but too common ; but it is very silly, and 
very prejudicial. Nothing in the world lets down a char- 
acter more than that wrong turn. 

You may possibly ask me whether a man has it always 
in his power to get into the best company ? and how ? I 
say, Yes, he has, by deserving it ; provided he is but in cir- 
cumstances which enable him to appear upon the footing 
of a gentleman. Merit and good breeding will make their 
way everywhere. Knowledge will introduce him, and good 
breeding will endear him to the best companies ; for, as I 

1 The fashionable world. 

2 Joseph Addison (1672 -1719) ~ Noted English essayist, poet, statesman. 

3 Alexander Pope (1688-1744). Famous English poet. 



62 LORD OHBSTEEFIELD'S LETTEB8. 

have often told you, politeness and good breeding are abso- 
lutely necessary to adorn any or all other good qualities or 
talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perfection what- 
soever, is Been in its besl 1 i *_r 1 1 1 . The Scholar, without good 
breeding, is a Pedant; the Philosopher, a Cynic j the Sol- 
din-, a Brute; and every man disagreeable. 

I long to hear from my several correspondents at Leipsic, 

of your arrival there, ami what impression you make on 
them at first; for I have Arouses. 1 with a hundred eyes 
each, who will watch you narrowly, and relate to me faith- 
fully. My accounts will certainly be true; it depends upon 
you entirely of what kind they shall be. Adieu. 

LETTEB XIX. 

FITTING ONE'S SELF FOR PUBLIC LIFE. 

London, January 15, O. S. 174 v . 

Dbab Boy, 

I Willingly accept the New Years gift which you prom- 
ise me for next year ; and the more valuable you make it, 
the more thankful I shall be. That depends entirely upon 
you ; and therefore I hope to be presented every year with 
a new edition of you, more correct than the former, and 
considerably enlarged and amended. 

Since you do not care to be an Assessor of the Imperial 
Chamber, and desire an establishment in England, what do 
you think of being Greek Professor at one of our Univer- 
sities ? It is a very pretty sinecure, and requires very little 
knowledge (much less than, I hope, yon have already) of that 
language. If you do not approve of this, I am at a loss to 
know what else to propose to you ; and therefore desire that 
you will inform me what sort of destination you propose 

1 In Greek l<"_:*'ii<l. ArgOS, L r uar<lian of I«>. was Earned H8 having bad one 
hundred eyes, slain by Hermes. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 63 

for yourself : for it is now time to fix it, and to take our 
measures accordingly. Mr. Harte tells me, that you set up 
for a HoXltlkos avrjp ; x if so, I presume it is in the view of 
succeeding me in my office ; which I will very willingly 
resign to you, whenever you shall call upon me for it. 
But, if you intend to be the HoXltlkos or the BvXrjcjiopos avrjp 2 
there are some trifling circumstances upon which you 
should previously take your resolution. The first of which 
is, to be fit for it ; and then, in order to be so, make yourself 
master of Ancient and Modern History, and Languages. To 
know perfectly the constitution and form of government of 
every nation; the growth and the decline of ancient and 
modern Empires; and to trace out and reflect upon the 
causes of both ; to know the strength, the riches, and the 
commerce of every country. These little things, trifling as 
they may seem, are very necessary for a Politician to know ; 
and which therefor, I presume, you will condescend to 
apply yourself to. There are some additional qualifica- 
tions necessary in the practical part of business, which may 
deserve some consideration in your leisure moments ; such 
as an absolute command of your temper, so as not to be 
provoked to passion upon any account: Patience to hear 
frivolous, impertinent, and unreasonable applications; with 
address enough to refuse, without offending; or by your 
manner of granting, to double the obligation: Dexterity 
enough to conceal a truth without telling a lie: Sagacity 
enough to read other people's countenances : and Seren- 
ity enough not to let them discover anything by yours ; a 
seeming frankness, with a real reserve. These are the 
rudiments of a Politician ; the w^orld must be your grammar. 
Three mails are now due from Holland ; so that I have 
no letters from you to acknowledge. I therefore conclude 
with recommending myself to your favor and protection, 
when you succeed, Yours. 

1 A man fitted for state affairs. 2 A man wise in counsel. 



64 lord chesterfield's letters. 



LETTEB XX. 

[DLENE88. OBSERVATION. 

Bath, February 16, 0. s. 1748. 
1 )i:ai; Boy, 

The first use that I made of mj liberty was to come 
hither, where I arrived yesterday. My health though not 
fundamentally bad, yel for want of proper attention of late 

wanted Some repairs, which these waters never fail giving 

it. I shall drink them a month, and return to London, 
there to enjoy the comforts of social life, instead of groan- 
ing under the load of business. I have given the descrip- 
tion of the life that I propose to lead for the future, in this 
motto, which I have put up in the frieze of my library in 
my new house : 

11 Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, et inertibus horis 
Ducere sollicitai jucunda oblivia vita.* 1 l 

I must observe to you, upon this occasion, that the 
uninterrupted satisfaction which I expect to find in that 
library, will be chiefly owing to my having employed some 
part of my life well at your age. I wish L had employed it 
better, and my satisfaction would now be complete; but, 
however, L planted, while young, that degree of knowledge 
which is now my refuge and my shelter. Make your 
plantations still more extensive, they will more than pay 
you for your trouble. I do not regret the time that I 
passed in pleasures; they were seasonable, they were the 
pleasures of youth, and I enjoyed them while young. If I 
had not, I should probably have overvalued them now, as 
we are very apt to do what we do not know: but, knowing 

1 Now in the books of the ancients, now in Bleep, and in idle hours to 
ciij.>\ the delight! nl forgetf nlness of an anxious life. 

—Horace, " Satires," II. 6. 02. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 65 

them as I do, I know their real value, and how much they 
are generally overrated. Nor do I regret the time that I 
have passed in business, for the same reason ; those who 
see only the outside of it imagine that it has hidden 
charms, which they pant after; and nothing but acquaint- 
ance can undeceive them. I, who have been behind the 
scenes, both of pleasure and business, and have seen all 
the springs and pulleys of those decorations which astonish 
and dazzle the audience, retire, not only without regret, but 
with contentment and satisfaction. But what I do and 
ever shall regret, is the time which, while young, I lost in 
mere idleness and in doing nothing. This is the common 
effect of the inconsideracy of youth, against which I beg 
you will be most carefully upon your guard. The value of 
moments, when cast up, is immense, if well employed; if 
thrown away, their loss is irrecoverable. Every moment 
may be put to some use, and that with much more pleasure 
than if unemployed. Do not imagine that, by the employ- 
ment of time, I mean an uninterrupted application to 
serious studies. No; pleasures are, at proper times, both 
as necessary and as useful : they fashion and form you for 
the world; they teach you characters, and show you the 
human heart in its unguarded minutes. But, then, remem- 
ber to make that use of them. I have known many people, 
from laziness of mind, go through both pleasure and busi- 
ness with equal inattention ; neither enjoying the one, 
nor doing the other; thinking themselves men of pleasure, 
because they were mingled with those who were ; and men 
of business, because they had business to do, though they 
did not do it. Whatever you do, do it to the purpose ; do 
it thoroughly, not superficially. Approfondissez x ; go to the 
bottom of things. Anything half done, or half known, is, 
in my mind, neither done nor known at all. Nay worse, 
for it often misleads. There is hardly any place, or any 

1 Examine thoroughly. 



66 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTER8. 

companyy where you may qoI gain knowledge if yon pie 
almost everybody knows Borne one thing, and is glad to 

talk upon thai one thing, Seek and you will find, in this 

world as well as in the next. Bee everything, inquire 
into everything; and you may excuse your curiosity, ami 

the questions you ask, which otherwise might be thought 
impertinent, by your manner of asking them; for most 
things depend a great deal upon the manner. As, for 
example, / am afraid that I ant very troublesome with my 

questions ; but nobody can inform me s<> well as you ; or 

something of that kind. 

Now that you arc in a Lutheran country, go to their 
churches, and observe the manner of their public worship; 
attend to their ceremonies, and inquire the meaning and 
intention of every one of them. And, as you will soon 
understand German well enough, attend to their sermons, 
and observe their manner of preaching. Inform yourself 
of their church government, whether it resides in the Sov- 
ereign, or in Consistories and Synods. Whence arises the 
maintenance of their Clergy; whether from tithes, as in 
England, or from voluntary contributions, or from pensions 
from the State. Do the same thing when you are in 
Roman Catholic countries; go to their churches, see all 
their ceremonies, ask the meaning of them, get the terms 
explained to you. A.s, for instance, Prime, Tierce, Sexte, 
Nones, Matins, Angelas. High .Mass. Vespers, Complies, 
etc. Inform yourself of their several religious Orders, 
their Founders, their Rules, their Vows, their Habits, their 
Revenues, etc. But when you Frequent places of public 
worship, as L would have you go to all the different ones 
you meet with, remember that however erroneous, they are 
none of them objects of laughter and ridicule. Holiest error 
LS to be pitied, not ridiculed. The object of all the public 
worships in the world is the same: it is that great eternal 
Being, who created everything. The different manners of 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 67 

worship are by no means subjects of ridicule. Each sect 
thinks its own the best ; and I know no infallible judge in 
this world to decide which is the best. Make the same in- 
quiries, wherever you are, concerning the revenues, the mili- 
tary establishment, the trade, the commerce, and the police 
of every country. And you would do well to keep a blank 
paper book, which the Germans call an Album : and there, 
instead of desiring, as they do, every fool they meet with 
to scribble something, write down all these things as soon 
as they come to your knowledge from good authorities. 

I had almost forgotten one thing which I would recom- 
mend as an object for your curiosity and information, that 
is, the Administration of Justice; which, as it is always 
carried on in open Court, you may, and I would have you, 
go and see it with attention and inquiry. 

I have now but one anxiety left which is concerning 
you. I would have you be, what I know nobody is, per- 
fect. As that is impossible, I would have you as near 
perfection as possible. I know nobody in a fairer way 
towards it than yourself if you please. Never were so 
much pains taken for anybody's education as for yours; 
and never had anybody those opportunities of knowledge 
and improvement which you have had and still have. I 
hope, I wish, I doubt, and I fear alternately. This only 
I am sure of, that you will prove either the greatest pain 
or the greatest pleasure of Yours. 



LETTER XXI. 

USE AND ABUSE OF LEARNING. 

Bath, February 22, 0. S. 1748. 
Dear Boy, 

Every excellency, and every virtue, has its kindred 
vice or weakness ; and if carried beyond certain bounds, 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTER8. 

sinks into the one or the other. Generosity often runs 

into profusion, economy into avarice, courage into rash- 

. caution into timidity. an<l bo on: — insomuch that, 

I believe, there is more judgment required for the proper 

conduct of our virtues, than for avoiding their opposite 
Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, thai it shocks 

08 at Br8l sight : and would hardly ever Beduce 08, if it did 
UOl at first wear the mask of some virtue. Bui virtue is in 
itself bo beautiful, thai it charms us at first Bight; eng 

us more and more, upon further acquaintance; and. as with 

other beauties, we think excess impossible: it is here that 

judgment is necessary to moderate and direct the t'i'frr- 
an excellent cause. I shall apply this reasoning, at present, 
not to any particular virtue, but to an excellency, which for 
want of judgment is often the cause of ridiculous and 
blamable effects; 1. mean, great learning, which, if riot 
accompanied with sound judgment, frequently carries as 
into error, pride, and pedantry. As I hope you will pos- 
:cellencyin its utmost extent, and yet without 
its too common failings, the hints which my experience can 
suggest may probably not be useless to you. 

Some learned men. proud of their knowledge, only 
speak to decide, and give judgment without appeal. The 
consequence of which is, that mankind, provoked by the 
insult, and injured by the oppression, revolt; and in order 
to shake off the tyranny, even eall the lawful authority in 
question. The more you know, the modester you should 
he: and (by the by) that modesty is the surest way of 
gratifying your vanity. Even where you are sure, seem 
rather doubtful: represent, hut do not pronounce; and if 
you would convince other-. Beem open to conviction yourself. 

Others, to .show their learning, or often from the prej- 
udices of a school education, where they hear of nothing 
are always talking of the Ancients as something more 
than men. and of the .Moderns as something less. They 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 69 

are never without a Classic or two in their pockets ; they 
stick to the old good sense; they read none of the 
modern trash ; and will show you plainly that no improve- 
ment has been made in any one art or science these last 
seventeen hundred years. I would by no means have you 
disown your acquaintance with the Ancients ; but still less 
would I have you brag of an exclusive intimacy with 
them. Speak of the Moderns without contempt, and of 
the Ancients without idolatry; judge them all by their 
merits, but not by their ages; and if you happen to 
have an Elzevir 1 classic in your pocket, neither show it 
nor mention it. 

Some great scholars most absurdly draw all their 
maxims, both for public and private life, from what the}^ 
call Parallel Cases in the ancient authors ; without con- 
sidering, that, in the first place, there never were, since 
the creation of the world, two cases exactly parallel: 
and, in the next place, that there never was a case 
stated, or even known, by any historian, with every one 
of its circumstances ; which, however, ought to be known, 
in order to be reasoned from. Beason upon the case 
itself and the several circumstances that attend it, and 
act accordingly : but not from the authority of ancient 
poets or historians. Take into your consideration, if you 
please, cases seemingly analogous ; but take them as helps 
only, not as guides. We are really so prejudiced by our 
educations, that, as the Ancients deified their heroes, we 
deify their madmen : of which, with all due regard to 
antiquity, I take Leonidas 2 and Curtius 3 to have been two 

1 Famous Dutch family, publishers of classic authors, — Latiu, Greek, 
French, German, etc. 

2 Greek hero, King of Sparta, killed at Thermopylae, 480 B.C. 

3 Marcus Curtius, legendary Roman hero, who while mounted jumped 
into a chasm in the forum, caused by an earthquake. The chasm at once 
closed, thus fulfilling the promise of the soothsayers, that only by the 
sacrifice of Rome's greatest treasure could this be accomplished. 



70 LORD 0HESTER1 [ELD'S LETTERS. 

distinguished ones. And yel a stolid pedant would, in 
a speech in Parliament, relative to a tax of twopence in 
the pound, upon Borne commodity or other, quote those 
two heroes, as examples of what we ought to do and 
Buffer for our country. I have known these absurdities 
carried so far, by people of injudicious learning, thai 1 
should not be Burprised, it' some of them were to propose, 

while we arc at war with the (ianls, that a number "1 
8 should be kept in tin 4 Tower, upon account of the 
infinite advantage which Rome received, in << j><ir<i//ri case, 
from a certain number of geese in the Capitol. 1 This way 
of reasoning, and this way of speaking, will always form 
a poor politician, and a puerile declaimer. 
There is another species of learned men, who, though 
dogmatical and supercilious, are not less i in pertinent. 
These are the communicative and shining Pedants, who 
adorn their conversation, even with women, by happy 
quotations of Greek and Latin, and who have contracted 
such a familiarity with the Greek and Roman authors, that 
they call them by certain names or epithets denoting inti- 
macy. As old Homer; that dy rogue Horace*; Metro* in- 
stead of Vergil ; and Nasof instead of Ovid. These are often 
imitated by coxcombs who have no learning at all, but who 
have got Milne names and some scraps of ancient authors by 
heart, which they improperly and impertinently retail in all 
companies, in hopes of passing lor scholars. If. therefore, 
you would avoid the accusation of pedantry, on the one hand, 

1 In their attack upon Rome (390 B.C.) the Gauls scaled tin* Bteep and 
rocky Blopea »•) tin- Capitoline Hill unobserved by the sentinels and the 

watch-dogS. The alarm was given b Whose cackling aroused 

bfanlios. With a Bmall force hastily Bnmmoned he repelled the invaders 

and Baved the city. 

- Quintnfl Boratins Flaccus. Famous Roman lyric poet m>5-s b.c). 

3 Pul) 1 ins Vergilius llaro, Roman epic poet (70 19 b.< .), 

-> Pnblins Ovidius Naso, Roman poet, one ol the Leading writers of the 

\ g e tan Ige 1 13 b.< 18 a.d.). 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 7l 

or the suspicion of ignorance, on the other, abstain from 
learned ostentation. Speak the language of the company 
that you are in; speak it purely, and unlarded with any 
other. Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people 
you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a 
private pocket ; and do not pull it out, and strike it, merely 
to show that you have one. If you are asked what o'clock 
it is, tell it ; but do not proclaim it hourly and unasked, like 
the watchman. 

Upon the whole, remember that learning (I mean Greek 
and Roman learning) is a most useful and necessary orna- 
ment, which it is shameful not to be master of ; but at the 
same time most carefully avoid those errors and abuses 
which I have mentioned, and which too often attend it. 
Remember, too, that great modern knowledge is still more 
necessary than ancient ; and that you had better know per- 
fectly the present than the old state of Europe ; though I 
would have you well acquainted with both. 

I have this moment received your letter of the 17th, N. S. 
Though, I confess, there is no great variety in your present 
manner of life, yet materials can never be wanting for a 
letter ; you see, you hear, or you read, something new every 
day; a short account of which, with your own reflections 
thereupon, will make out a letter very well. But, since you 
desire a subject, pray send me an account of the Lutheran x 
establishment in Germany ; their religious tenets, their 
church government, the maintenance, authority, and titles 
of their Clergy. 

Vittorio Siri, complete, is a very scarce and very dear 
book here; but I do not want it. If your own library 
grows too voluminous, you will not know what to do with 
it, when you leave Leipsic. Your best way will be, when 
you go away from thence, to send to England, by Hamburg, 
all the books that you do not absolutely want. Yours. 

1 The Protestant church which was founded by Martin Luther about 1522. 



T2 lord chesterfield's letters, 



LETTEB XXII. 

ill i: BRACES. 

B mii, March '•». <>. s. i:i-. 
Deab Boy, 

I must, from tunc t<> time , remind yon of what 1 have 

often recommended to you, and of what you cannot attend 

in too lunch; s<t<-riji<-<' in the Graces. The different effects 
of the same things, said or done, when accompanied or 
abandoned by them, is almost inconceivable. They pre- 
pare the way to the heart; and the heart lias such an in- 
fluence over the understanding, that it is worth while to 
engage it in our interest. It is the whole of women, who 
are guided by nothing else; and it has so much to Bay, 
even with men. and the ablest men too, thai it commonly 
triumphs in every struggle with the understanding. .Mon- 
sieur de Rochefoucault in his Maxims, says, thai V esprit est 
souvent la dupe dn ca ur. 1 If lie had said, instead of souvent y 
presfoe tOUJOUrs* I fear he would have been nearer the 
truth. This being the case, aim at the heart. Intrinsic 
merit alone will not do; it will gain you the general esteem 
of all ; but not the particular affection, that is, the heart, of 
any. To engage the affection of any particular person, you 
must, over and above your general merit, have some particu- 
lar merit to that person; by services done or offered; by 
expressions of regard and esteem; by complaisance, atten- 
tions, etc., for him: and the graceful manner oi' doing all 
these things opens the way to the heart, and facilitates, or 

rather insures, their effects. From your own observation, 
refleel what a disagreeable impression an awkward addri - 
slovenly figure, an ungraceful manner of speaking, whether 
stuttering, muttering, monotony, or drawling, an unattentive 

1 The mind ia often tin- victim of the heart. 

8 Often, almost always. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 73 

behavior, etc., make upon you, at first sight, in a stranger, 
and how they prejudice you against him, though, for aught 
you know, he may have great intrinsic sense and merit. 
And reflect, on the other hand, how much the opposites of 
all these things prepossess you at first sight in favor of 
those who enjoy them. You wish to find all good qualities 
in them, and are in some degree disappointed if you do not. 
A thousand little things, not separately to be defined, con- 
spire to form these Graces, this je ne stiis quoi, 1 that always 
pleases. A pretty person, genteel motions, a proper degree 
of dress, an harmonious voice, something open and cheerful 
in the countenance, but without laughing ; a distinct and 
properly varied manner of speaking: all these things, and 
many others, are necessary ingredients in the composition 
of the pleasing je ne sals quoi, which everybody feels, 
though nobody can describe. Observe carefully, then, what 
displeases or pleases you in others, and be persuaded that in 
general the same things will please or displease them in you. 
Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you 
against it : and I could heartily wish, that you may often 
be seen to smile, but never heard to laugh, while you live. 
Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and 
ill manners : it is the manner in which the mob express their 
silly joy, at silly things; and they call it being merry. In 
my mind, there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as 
audible laughter. True wit, or sense, never yet made any- 
body laugh ; they are above it : they please the mind, and 
give a cheerfulness to the countenance. But it is low buf- 
foonery, or silly accidents, that always excite laughter ; and 
that is what people of sense and breeding should show 
themselves above. A man's going to sit down, in the sup- 
position that he has a chair behind him, and falling down 
upon the floor for want of one, sets a whole company a 
laughing, when all the wit in the world would not do it ; a 

1 1 know not what. 



71 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

plain proof, in mj mind, how low and unbecoming a thing 
laughter is. Nol to mention the disagreeable noise thai it 
makes, and the shocking distortion of the face thai it occa- 
sions. Laughter is easily restrained by a irery little reflec- 
tion, bul as it is generally connected with the idea of gaiety, 
people do ool enough attend to its absurdity. I ana neither 
of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition; and am as will- 
ing and as ap1 to be pleased as anybody ; bul L am sure that, 
since I have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever 
heard me laugh. Many people, at firsl ir<»m awkwardness 
and mauvaisi hontej have gol a ^i-ry disagreeable and silly 
trick of laughing whenever they speak: and I know a man 

of very good parts. Mr. Waller, who cannot say the com- 
monest thing without laughing; which makes those who do 
not know him. take him at firsl for a natural fool. This 
and many other very disagreeable habits arc owing to mau- 
vaisi I<anf< j] at their first setting out in tin 1 world. They 
are ashamed in company, and so disconcerted that they do 
not know what they do, and try a thousand tricks to keep 
themselves in countenance; which tricks afterwards grow 
habitual to them. Some scratch their head, others twirl 
their hats; in short, every awkward, ill-bred body has his 
trick. Bul the frequency does not justify the thing; and 
all these vulgar habits and awkwardness, though not crimi- 
nal indeed, are most carefully to be guarded against, as they 
are greal bars in the way of the art of pleasing. Remem- 
ber, thai to please is almosl to prevail, or at least a neces- 
sary previous step to it. Yon, who have your fortune to 
make, should more particularly study this art. You had 
not, 1 must tell you. when yon left England, tea mani&res 
nantes;* and I must confess the y are nol very common 
in England: but I hope that your good sense will make you 
acquire them abroad. If you desire to make yourself con- 
siderable in the world (as. if you have any spirit, you do) it 

1 Bashfnlness. - Pn possessing manners. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 75 

must be entirely your own doing: for I may very possibly 
be out of the world at the time you come into it. Your own 
rank and fortune will not assist you; your merit and your 
manners can alone raise you to figure and fortune. I have 
laid the foundations of them by the education which I have 
given you ; but you must build the superstructure yourself. 
. . . Adieu. 

LETTER XXIII. 

FRUITS OF MENTAL CULTURE. 

London, April 1, O. S. 1748. 
Dear Boy, 

I have not received any letter, either from you or from 
Mr. Harte, these three posts, which I impute wholly to acci- 
dents between this place and Leipsic ; and they are distant 
enough to admit of many. I always take it for granted that 
you are well when I do not hear to the contrary ; besides, as 
I have often told you, I am much more anxious about your 
doing well, than about your being well ; and when you do 
not write I will suppose that you are doing something more 
useful. Your health will continue while your temperance 
continues ; and at your age nature takes sufficient care of 
the body, provided she is left to herself, and that intemper- 
ance on one hand, or medicines on the other, do not break 
in upon her. But it is by no means so with the mind, which 
at your age particularly requires great and constant care, 
and some physic. Every quarter of an hour well or ill em- 
ployed, will do it essential and lasting good or harm. It 
requires also a great deal of exercise to bring it to a state 
of health and vigor. Observe the difference there is between 
minds cultivated and minds uncultivated, and you will, I 
am sure, think that you cannot take too much pains, nor em- 
ploy too much of your time, in the culture of your own. A 
drayman is probably born with as good organs as Milton, 



76 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'8 LETTERS. 

Locke, or Newton; but l>y culture they are much more 
above him than he is above his hoi 8 >metimes, indeed, 
extraordinary geniuses have broken out by the force of 
nature without the assistance oi education; but those in- 
stances are too rare for anybody to trust to; and even they 
would make a much greater figure if they had the advanl 
of education into the bargain. [f Shakespeare's genius had 
been cultivated, those beauties, which we so justly admire 
in him, would have been undisgraced by those extravagan- 
cies, ami that nonsense, with which they are frequently 
accompanied. People are in general what they are made, 
by education and company, from fifteen to five-and-twenty ; 
consider well, therefore, the importance of your next i 
or nine years; your whole depends upon them. I will tell 
you sincerely my hopes and my fears concerning you. I 
think you will be a good scholar, and that you will acquire 
a considerable stock of knowledge of various kinds: but I 
fear that you neglect what arc called little though in truth 
they arc very material, things; 1 mean a gentleness of man- 

. an eng ddress, and an insinuating behavior: 

they are real and solid advantages, and none hut those who 
do not know the world, treat them as trifles. I am told 
that you speak very quick, and not distinctly ; this is a most 
ungraceful and disagreeable trick, which you know I have 
told you of a thousand times; pray attend carefully to the 

ection of it. An agreeable and distinct manner of speak- 
ing adds greatly to the matter: and I have known many a 
vrry good speech unregarded upon account of the disagree- 
able manner in which it has been delivered, and many an 
indifferent one applauded, for the contrary reason. Adieu. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 77 

LETTER XXIY. 

AWKWARDNESS AT COURT. 

London, May 17, O. S. 1748. 
Dear Boy, 

I received, yesterday, your letter of the 16th, N. S., and 
have, in consequence of it, written this day to Sir Charles 
Williams, to thank him for all the civilities he has shown 
you. Your first setting out at Court has, I find, been very 
favorable; and his Polish Majesty has distinguished you. 
I hope you received that mark of distinction with respect 
and with steadiness, which is the proper behavior of a man 
of fashion. People of a low, obscure education, cannot 
stand the rays of greatness ; they are frightened out of their 
wits when kings and great men speak to them ; they are 
awkward, ashamed, and do not know what nor how to an- 
swer : whereas les honnetes gens x are not dazzled by superior 
rank : they know and pay all the respect that is due to it ; 
but they do it without being disconcerted ; and can converse 
just as easily with a king as with any one of his v subjects. 
This is the great advantage of being introduced young into 
good company, and being used early to converse with one's 
superiors. How many men have I seen here, who, after 
having had the full benefit of an English education, first at 
school, and then at the university, when they have been pre- 
sented to the King, did not know whether they stood upon 
their heads or their heels ? If the king spoke to them, they 
were annihilated; they trembled, endeavored to put their 
hands in their pockets and missed them, let their hats fall, 
and were ashamed to take them up ; and, in short, put them- 
selves in every attitude but the right, that is, the easy and 
natural one. The characteristic of a well-bred man is, to 
converse with his inferiors without insolence, and with his 
1 Respectable people. 



r8 LORD 0HE8TEBFIBLD 9 8 LETTERS. 

superiors with respect and with ease. ll< i talks to kings 
without concern; he trifles with women <>i the first condi- 
tion, with Familiarity, gaiety, bul respect; and converses 
with his equals, whether he is acquainted with them or not, 
upon general, common topics, that arc not, boweVer, quite 

frivolous, without the least concern of mind, or awkward- 
ness of body : neither of which can appear to advantage, 
bul when t hey are perfect ly easy. 

The tea-t hings which Sir ( iharles Williams has given you, 
I would have you make a present of to your Mamma, and 
send them to her by Duval, when he returns. Xouoweher, 
not only duty, but Likewise great obligations, for her care 

and tenderness; and consequently cannot take too many 
opportunities of showing your gratitude. 

I am impatient to receive your account of Dresden, and 
likewise your answers to the many questions that I asked 
you. 

Adieu for this time, and God bless you! 

LETTER XXV. 

GOOD MANNERS. 

London, July 1, 0. S. 1748. 

Deab Boy, 

I am extremely well pleased with the course of studies 
which Mr. Harte informs me you are now in, and with the 
degree of application which he assures me you have to them. 
It is your interest to do so, as the advantage will he all 
your own. My affection for you makes me both wish and 
endeavor that you may turn out well ; and according as you 
do turn out, I shall be either proud or ashamed of you- But 

as to men* interest, in the common acceptation of that word, 
it would be mine that you should turn out ill: for you may 
depend upon it that whatever you have from me shall he 
mosl exactly proportioned to your desert. Deserve a great 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 79 

deal, and you shall have a great deal ; deserve little, and yon 
shall have but a little ; and be good for nothing at all, and, I 
assure you, you shall have nothing at all. 

Solid knowledge, as I have often told you, is the first and 
great foundation of your future fortune and character : for 
I never mention to you the two much greater points of reli- 
gion and morality, because I cannot possibly suspect you as 
to either of them. This solid knowledge you are in a fair 
way of acquiring ; you may if you please ; and I will add, 
that nobody ever had the means of acquiring it more in their 
power than you have. But remember that manners must 
adorn knowledge, and smooth its way through the world. 
Like a great rough diamond, it may do very well in a closet 
by way of curiosity, and also for its intrinsic value ; but it 
will never be worn, nor shine if it is not polished. It is 
upon this article, I confess, that I suspect you the most, 
which makes me recur to it so often ; for I fear that you 
are apt to show too little attention to everybody, and too 
much contempt to many. Be convinced, that there are no 
persons so insignificant and inconsiderable but may, some 
time or other, and in something or other, have it in their 
power to be of use to you, which they certainly will not if 
you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often 
forgiven, but contempt never is, our pride remembers it for 
ever, it implies a discovery of weaknesses which we are 
much more careful to conceal than crimes. Many a man 
will confess his crimes to a common friend, but I never 
knew a man who would tell his silly weaknesses to his 
most intimate one; as many a friend will tell us our faults 
without reserve, who will not so much as hint at our follies. 
That discovery is too mortifying to our self-love, either to 
tell another, or to be told of one's self. You must therefore 
never expect to hear of your weaknesses or your follies from 
anybody but me ; those I will take pains to discover, and 
whenever I do shall tell you of them. . . . Adieu. 



80 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

LETTEB XXVI. 

TWO BORTS OF I WDERfl r.\ \ in \ < ML 

London. July 26, 0. s. 174a 
Deab Boy, 

There are two sorts of understandings; one of which 
binders a man from ever being considerable, and the 
other commonly makes him ridiculous; I mean the lazy 
mind, and the trifling, frivolous mind Fours, I hope, is 
neither. The lazy mind Avill not take the trouble of going 
to the bottom of anything; but, discouraged by the firsl 
difficulties, (and everything worth knowing or having is at- 
tended with some.) stops short, contents itself with easy, and 
consequently, superficial knowledge, and prefers a greal 
degree of ignorance to a small degree of trouble. These 
people either think, or represent most things aa impossible; 
whereas few things are so, to industry and activity. Bui 
difficulties seem to them impossibilities or at least they pre- 
tend to think them so, by way of excuse for their laziness. 
An hour's attention to the same object is too laborious for 
them ; they take everything in the light in which it first 
presents itself, never consider it in all its different views; 
and. in short, never think it through. The 1 consequence of 
this is. that, when they come to speak upon these subjects 
before people who have considered them with attention, they 
only discover their own ignorance and laziness, and lay 
themselves open to answers that put them in confusion. Do 
not then be discouraged by the first difficulties, but rt,,ifr<f <t>i- 

dentior ito 1 ; and resolve to go to the bottom of all those tilings 
which every gentleman oughl to know well. Those arts or 

sciences, which are peculiar to certain professions, need not 
be deeply known by those who are not intended for those 
professions. . . . Bui those things which every gentleman, 
independently of profession, should know, he ought to know 

1 (>n tin- other band, go forward more boldly. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 81 

well, and dive into all the depths of them. Such as lan- 
guages, history, and geography, ancient and modern ; philos- 
ophy, rational logic, rhetoric, and, for you particularly, the 
constitutions and the civil and military state of every 
country in Europe. This, I confess, is a pretty large circle 
of knowledge, attended with some difficulties, and requiring 
some trouble, which, however, an active and industrious 
mind will overcome, and be amply repaid. The trifling and 
frivolous mind is always busied, but to little purpose ; it 
takes little objects for great ones, and throws away upon 
trifles that time and attention, which only important things 
deserve. . . . 

Read only useful books ; and never quit a subject till you 
are thoroughly master of it, but read and inquire on till 
then. When you are in company, bring the conversation to 
some useful subject, but a portee l of that company. Points 
of history, matters of literature, the customs of particular 
countries, the several orders of Knighthood, as Teutonic, 2 
Maltese, 3 etc., are surely better subjects of conversation than 
the weather, dress, or fiddle-faddle stories, that carry no 
information along with them. The characters of kings and 
great men are only to be learned in conversation, for they 
are never fairly written during their lives. This, therefore, 
is an entertaining and instructive subject of conversation and 
will likewise give you an opportunity of observing how very 
differently characters are given from the different passions 
and views of those who give them. Never be ashamed nor 
afraid of asking questions ; for if they lead to information 
and if you accompany them with some excuse, you will 

1 Within the capacity. 

2 A military order founded at Acre, Palestine, in 1190. Its purpose was 
to care for the sick and wounded pilgrims and to defend the sacred soil of 
the Holy Land. 

3 A company of monks, originating in the Holy Land, who founded a 
church and a hospital in Jerusalem. A military organization was per- 
fected in the 12th century. 

G 



82 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

never be reckoned bo impertinent or rude questioner. All 
those things in the common course of Life depend entirely 
upon the manner; and in thai respect the vulgar Baying ls 
true, "Thai one man maj better steal a liorse, than another 
look over t he hedge." . . . 

1 am very glad thai Mr. Lyttelton approved of my new 
house, and particularly of my Canonical 1 pillars. My bust 
of ( !icero is a very fine one, and well preserved ; it will have 
the best place in my library, unless, at your return, you 
bring me over as u r,, <><l a modem head pf your own; which I 
should like still better. 1 can tell you that 1 shall examine 
it as attentively as ever antiquary did an old one. 

LETTER XXVII. 

GOOD COMPANY. 

Bath, October 12, 1748. 
Pkak Boy, 

.... To keep good company, especially at your first Bet- 
ting out, is the way to receive good impressions. If you ask 

me what I mean by good company. 1 will confess to you 
that it is pretty difficult tO define; but I will endeavor to 

make you understand it as well as I can. 

Good company is not what respective sets of company are 
pleased either to call or think themselves, hut it is that 
company which all the people of the place call and acknowl- 
edge to be good company, notwithstanding some objections 

which they may form to some of the individuals who com- 
pose it. It consists chiefly (hut l>y no means without ex- 
ception ) of people of Considerable birth, rank, and character. 

for people of neither birth nor rank are frequently, and very 

justly, admitted into it, if distinguished by any peculiar 

merit, or emineiiey in any liberal art or science. Nay. BO 

1 a pun : the author placed in lii> house pillars from Canons, in Middlesex. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 83 

motley a thing is good company, that many people, without 
birth, rank, or merit, intrude into it by their own forwardness, 
and others slide into it by the protection of some considerable 
person, and some even of indifferent characters and morals 
make part of it. But in the main, the good part preponder- 
ates, and people of infamous and blasted characters are 
never admitted. In this fashionable good company, the 
best manners and the best language of the place are most 
unquestionably to be learnt ; for they establish and give the 
tone to both, which are therefore called the language and 
manners of good company, there being no legal tribunal to 
ascertain either. 

A company consisting wholly of people of the first quali- 
ties cannot, for that reason, be called good company, in the 
common acceptation of the phrase, unless they are, into the 
bargain, the fashionable and accredited company of the place ; 
for people of the very best quality can be as silly, as ill-bred, 
and as worthless, as people of the meanest degree. On the 
other hand, a company consisting entirely of people of very 
low condition, whatever their merit or parts may be, can 
never be called good company, and consequently should not 
be much frequented, though by no means despised. ... 

But the company which of all others you should most 
carefully avoid, is that low company which, in every sense 
of the word, is low indeed, low in rank, low in parts, low 
in manners, and low in merit. . . . 

There is good sense in the Spanish saying, " Tell me whom 
you live with and I will tell you who you are." Make it, 
therefore, your business, wherever you are, to get into that 
company which everybody of the place allows to be the best 
company, next to their own, which is the best definition that 
I can give you of good company. Adieu. 



8 1 U >RD CHE8TEBF] ELD'S LETTERS. 



LETTEB XXVIII. 

< OK DUCT in B0< U5TY. 

Bath, October 19, 0. EL 1748. 
Deab I k)Y, 

II w i\<. in my last pointed oul what sorl of company you 

should keep, I will now give you Borne rules Eor your con- 
duct in it ; rules which my own experience and observation 
enable me i<> lay down, and communicate to you with some 
degree of confidence. I have often given you hints of this 
kind before, bul then it has been by snatches; I will now 
be more regular and methodical. I shall say nothing with 
regard to your bodily carriage and address, nut leave them 
to the care of your dancing-master, and toyourown atten- 
tion to the best models: remember, however, that they are 
of consequence. 

Talk often, but never long; in that case, if you do not 
please, at least you are sure not to tire, your hearers. Pay 
your own reckoning, but do not treat the whole company; 
this being one of the very few cases in which people do not 
care to be treated, every one being fully convinced that he 
has wherewithal to pay. 

Tell stories very seldom, and absolutely never but where 
they are very apt and very short. Omit every circumstance 
that LS not material, and beware of digressions. To have 1 

frequent recourse to narrative betrays great want of imagi- 
nation. 

Never hold anybody by the button, or tin 4 hand, in order 
to be heard out: for, if people are not willing to hear you, 
you had much better hold your tongue than them. 

Most long talkers single out someone unfortunate man in 
company (commonly him whom they observe to be the most 
silent, or their next neighbor) to whisper, or at least, in a 
half voice, to convey a continuity of words to. This is ex- 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 85 

cessively ill-bred, and, in some degree, a fraud ; conversation 
stock being a joint and common property. But, on the other 
hand, if one of these unmerciful talkers lays hold of you, 
hear him with patience (and at least seeming attention), if 
he is worth obliging ; for nothing will oblige him more than 
a patient hearing, as nothing would hurt him more, than 
either to leave him in the midst of his discourse, or to dis- 
cover your impatience under your affliction. 

Take, rather than give, the tone of the company you are 
in. If you have parts, you will show them, more or less, 
upon every subject ; and if you have not, you had better talk 
sillily upon a subject of other people's than of your own 
choosing. 

Avoid as much, as you can, in mixed companies, argument- 
ative, polemical conversations ; which, though they should 
not, yet certainly do, indispose, for a time, the contending 
parties towards each other : and, if the controversy grows 
warm and noisy, endeavor to put an end to it by some gen- 
teel levity or joke. I quieted such a conversation hubbub 
once, by representing to them that though I was persuaded 
none there present would repeat, out of company, what 
passed in it, yet I could not answer for the discretion of the 
passengers in the street, who must necessarily hear all that 
was said. 

Above all things, and upon all occasions, avoid speaking 
of yourself, if it be possible. Such is the natural pride and 
vanity of our hearts, that it perpetually breaks out, even in 
people of the best parts, in all the various modes and figures 
of the egotism. 

Some abruptly speak advantageously of themselves, with- 
out either pretence or provocation. They are impudent. 
Others proceed more artfully, as they imagine; and forge 
accusations against themselves, complain of calumnies which 
they never heard, in order to justify themselves, by exhibit- 
ing a catalogue of their many virtues. They acknowledge it 



v »; LORD chesterfield's letters. 

mil'/, indeed) seem odd, that tliey should talk in thai manner of 
themselves ; U is what they do not like, and what they never 
would have done : no f no tortures should ever have forced it 
j'r<>m them, if they had not been thus unjustly and monstrously 
accused, But) in these cases, justice is surely due to onefs self, 
as well as to others : and, when our character is attacked, we 
may say, in <>><r own justification) what otherwise we ru ver 
would have said. This thin veil of modesty, drawn before 
vanity, IS much too transparent to conceal it. even from \ei\ 
moderate discernment. 
Others go more modestlj and more slily still (as they 

think) t<> work: hut. in my mind, still more ridiculously. 

They confess themselves (not without some degree of 
shame ami confusion) into all the cardinal virtues; h\ first 
degrading them into weaknesses, ami then owning their 
misfortune, in being made up of those weaknesses. They 
cannot see people suffer without sympathizing with) and endei iv- 
oring to help, them. They cannot see people want without 
relieving them : though truly their own circumstances cannot 
very well afford it. They cannot help speaking truth) though 
they know all the imprudence of it. In short, then know that) 
with all these weaknesses) they are not fit to live in the world, 
much less to thrive in it. But they are now too old t<> change) 
and must ml, ,, n as well as they can. This sounds too ridic- 
ulous and outri) almost, for the stage; and yet, take my 
word for it, you will frequently meet with it upon the com- 
mon stage of the world. And here I will observe, by the by, 
that you will often meet with characters in nature so ex- 
travagant, that a discreet poet would not venture to Bet 

them upon the stage in their true and high coloring. 

This principle of vanity and pride is so strong in human 

nature, that it descends even to the lowest objects j and one 

often sees people angling for praise, where, admitting all 
say to be true (which, by the way, it seldom is), no 

just praise is to be caught. One man affirms that he has 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 87 

rode post a hundred miles in six hours : probably it is a lie; 
but supposing it to be true, what then ? Why, he is a very 
good postboy, that is all. Another asserts, and probably 
not without oaths, that he has drunk six or eight bottles of 
wine at a sitting : out of charity I will believe him a liar ; 
for if I do not I must think him a beast. 

Such, and a thousand more, are the follies and extrava- 
gancies which vanity draws people into, and which always 
defeat their own purpose : and, as Waller x says, upon 
another subject, 

" Make the wretch the most despised, 
Where most he wishes to be prized." 

The only sure way of avoiding these evils is, never to 
speak of yourself at all. But when historically you are 
obliged, to mention yourself, take care not to drop one 
single word that can directly or indirectly be construed as 
fishing for applause. Be your character what it will, it will 
be known ; and nobody will take it upon your own word. 
Never imagine that anything you can say yourself will 
varnish your defects, or add lustre to your perfections : 
but, on the contrary, it may, and nine times in ten will, 
make the former more glaring, and the latter obscure. If 
you are silent upon your own subject, neither envy, indigna- 
tion, nor ridicule will obstruct or allay the applause which 
you may really deserve ; but if you publish your own 
panegyric, upon any occasion or in any shape whatsoever, 
and however artfully dressed or disguised, they will all 
conspire against you, and you will be disappointed of the 
very end you aim at. 

Take care never to seem dark and mysterious; which 
is not only a very unamiable character, but a very sus- 
picious one, too : if you seem mysterious with others, they 
will be really so with you, and you will know nothing. 

1 Edmund Waller (1605-1687), English poet, friend and supporter of 
Cromwell. 



sv LORD CH BSTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

The height of abilities is, to have volto sciolto and pensieri 
stretli ; ] thai i^, a frank, open, and ingenuous exterior, with 
a prudent and reserved interior; t<» be upon your own 
guard, and yet, by ;i Beeming natural openness, to put 

people off of theirs. Depend upon it, nine in ten of 
every company you are in, will avail themselves of every 
indiscreel and unguarded expression of yours, if they can 
turn it to their own advantage. A prudent reserve is 
therefore as necessary as a seeming openness is prudent. 
Always look people in the face when you speak to them ; 
the not doing it is thought to imply conscious guill ; besides 
that, you lose the advantage of observing by their counte- 
nances what impression your discourse makes upon them. 
In order to know people's real sentiments, I trust much 
more to my eyes than to my ears ; for they can say what- 
ever they have a mind I should hear, but they can seldom 
help looking what they have no intention that I should know. 

Neither retail nor receive scandal, willingly ; for though 
the defamation of others may, for the present, gratify the 
malignity or the pride of our hearts, cool reflection will 
draw very disadvantageous conclusions from such a dis- 
position; and in the case of scandal, as in that of robbery, 
the receiver is always thought as had as the thief. 

Mimicry, which is the common and favorite amusement 
of little, low minds, is in the utmost contempt with great 
cues, it is the lowest and most illiberal of all buffoonery. 
Tray neither practice it yourself, nor applaud it in others. 
Besides that, the person mimicked is insulted ; and, as I have 

often observed to you before, an insult is never forgiven. 

I need not (I believe) advise you to adapt your con- 
versation to the people you are conversing with; for I 
suppose you would not, without this caution, have talked 
upon the same subject, and in the same manner, to a 
minister of state, a bishop, a philosopher, a captain, and 
1 a mobile fare and thoughts dose-guarded. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 89 

a woman. A man of the world must, like the chameleon, 
be able to take every different hue; which is by no means 
a criminal or abject, but a necessary, complaisance, for it 
relates only to manners, and not to morals. 

One word only as to swearing; and that I hope and 
believe is more than is necessary. You may sometimes 
hear some people in good company interlard their discourse 
with oaths, by way of embellishment, as they think ; but 
you must observe, too, that those who do so are never those 
who contribute, in any degree, to give that company the 
denomination of good company. They are always sub- 
alterns, or people of low education ; for that practice, 
besides that it has no one temptation to plead, is as silly 
and as illiberal as it is wicked. 

Loud laughter is the mirth of the mob, who are only 
pleased with silly things ; for true wit or good sense 
never excited a laugh since the creation of the world. A 
man of parts and fashion is therefore only seen to smile, 
but never heard to laugh. 

But, to conclude this long letter ; all the above men- 
tioned rules, however carefully you may observe them, 
will lose half their effect if unaccompanied by the Graces. 
Whatever you say, if you say it with a supercilious, cynical 
face, or an embarrassed countenance, or a silly disconcerted 
grin, will be ill received. If, into the bargain, you mutter 
it, or utter it indistinctly and ungracefully, it will be still 
worse received. If your air and address are vulgar, awk- 
ward, and gauche, 1 you may be esteemed indeed, if you have 
great intrinsic merit, but you will never please ; and with- 
out pleasing, you will rise but heavily. Venus, among the 
Ancients, was synonymous with the Graces, who were 
always supposed to accompany her ; and Horace tells us 
that even Youth, and Mercury, the god of arts and elo- 
quence, would not do without her. . . . Adieu. 

1 Uncouth. 



90 lord chesterfield's letters. 



LETTEB XXIX. 

>< HOI \ EK8H I P. DES1 RE 01 PB I [8E. 

London, I December l ; <>. 17I£. 
Deab Boy, 

Mi:. Habte's last letter, of the 11th N. 8. particularly, 
makes me extremely happy, by assuring me, that in every 
respect you <!<> exceedingly well. I am net afraid by what 
I now say of making you too vain; because I do not think 
that a just consciousness, and an honest pride of doing well, 
can he called vanity; for vanity is either the silly affecta- 
tion of good qualities which one has not, or the sillier pride 
of what does not deserve commendation in itself. . . . 
Consider what lustre and iclai it will give you when you 
return here, to be allowed to be the best scholar of a gentle- 
man in England, not to mention the real pleasure and solid 
com foi-t which such knowledge will give you throughout 
your whole life. . . . 

But here let me, as an old stager upon the theatre of the 
world, suggest one consideration to you; which is, to ex- 
tend your desire of praise a little beyond the strictly praise- 
worthy; or else you may be apt to discover too much 
contempt for at least three parts in rive of the world; who 
will never forgive it you. In the mass of mankind, I fear 
there is too great a majority of fools and knaves, who, 
simply for their number, must to a certain degree be re- 
spected, though they arc by no means respectable. And 
a man who will show cvi'i-y knave or fool that he thinks 
him Such, will engage in a most luinous war against num- 
bers much superior to those that he ami his allies can bring 
into the held. Abhor a knave, and pity a fool, in your 
heart; but let neither of them unnecessarily see that you 
do so. Some complaisance and attention to fools is pru- 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 91 

dent, and not mean:- as a silent abhorrence of individual 
knaves is often necessary, and not criminal. . . . 

Adieu ! God bless you ! and may you continue to de- 
serve my love as much as you now enjoy it. 



LETTER XXX. 

FLATTERY. TEMPER. 

London, May 22, 1749. 
Dear Boy, 

I recommended to you in my last an innocent piece of 
art — that of flattering people behind their backs, in pres- 
ence of those who, to make their own court, much more 
than for your sake, will not fail to repeat, and even amplify, 
the praise to the party concerned. This is of all flattery 
the most pleasing, and consequently the most effectual. 
There are other, and many other, inoffensive arts of this 
kind, which are necessary in the course of the world, and 
which he who practises the earliest will please the most, 
and rise the soonest. The spirits and vivacity of youth 
are apt to neglect them as useless, or reject them as trouble- 
some; but subsequent knowledge and experience of the 
world remind us of their importance, commonly when it is 
too late. One principal of these things is the mastery of 
one's temper, and that coolness of mind and serenity of 
countenance, which hinder us from discovering, by words, 
actions, or even looks, those passions or sentiments by 
which we are inwardly moved or agitated, and the discov- 
ery of which gives cooler and abler people such infinite 
advantages over us, not only in great business, but in the 
most common occurrences of life. A man who does not 
possess himself enough to hear disagreeable things without 
visible marks of anger and change of countenance, or agree- 
able ones without sudden bursts of joy and expansion of 



92 LORD chesterfield's letters. 

countenance, is at the mercy of every artful knave or pert 
coxcomb. The Former will provoke or please you by de- 
sign, to catch unguarded words or looks by which he will 
easilj decipher the secrets of your heart, of which von 

should keep the key yourself ; lIM l trust it with no man 

living, . . . Determine, too, to keep your countenance as 

unmoved and unembarrassed as possible, which steadiness 

you may gel a habit of by constant attention. ... I even 
repeat frequently the same things the better to imprint 
them on your young, and, I suppose, yet giddy mind, and 

I shall think that pail of my time the best employed that 
contributes to make you employ yours well. God bless 
you, child. 

LETTEB XXXI. 

SYSTEMATIC STUDY. 

London, September 12, 0. S. 174'*. 

Dear Boy, 

It seems extraordinary, but it is very true, that my 
anxiety for you increases in proportion to the good accounts 
which I receive of you from all hands. I promise myself 
so much from you, that I dread the least disappointment. 
You are now so near the port, which I have so long wished 
and labored to bring you into, that my concern would be 
doubled should you be s hip wrecked within Bight of it. 
The object, therefore, of this letter is (laying aside all 
the authority of a parent), to conjure you as a friend. 
by the affection you have for me (and surely you have 

reason to have some), and by the regard yon have for your- 
self, to go on, with assiduity and attention, to complete 
that work, which, of late, you have carried on so well, and 
which is now so near being finished. My wishes, and my 
plan, were to make you shine, ami distinguish yourself 
equally in the learned and the polite world. Few have 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 93 

been able to do it. Deep learning is generally tainted with 
pedantry, or at least unadorned by manners ; as, on the 
other hand, polite manners, and the turn of the world, are 
too often unsupported by knowledge, and consequently end 
contemptibly in the frivolous dissipation of drawing-rooms 
and ruelles. 1 You are now got over the dry and difficult 
parts of learning; what remains requires much more 
time than trouble. You have lost time by your illness; 
you must regain it now or never. I therefore most earnestly 
desire, for your own sake, that for these next six months, 
at least six hours every morning, uninterruptedly, may be 
inviolably sacred to your studies with Mr. Harte. I do 
not know whether he will require so much, but I know that 
I do, and hope you will, and consequently prevail with him 
to give you that time : I own it is a good deal ; but when 
both you and he consider, that the work will be so much 
better and so much sooner done, by such an assiduous and 
continued application, you will neither of you think it too 
much, and each will find his account in it. So much for 
the mornings which, from your own good sense, and Mr. 
Harte' s tenderness and care of you, will, I am sure, be thus 
well employed. It is not only reasonable, but useful, too, 
that your evenings should be devoted to amusements and 
pleasures ; and therefore I not only allow, but recommend, 
that they should be employed at assemblies, balls, sjyectades, 
and in the best companies ; with this restriction only, that 
the consequences of the evening's diversions may not break 
in upon the morning's studies, by breakfastings, visits, and 
idle parties into the country. At your age, you need not 
be ashamed, when any of these morning parties are pro- 
posed, to say you must beg to be excused, for you are 
obliged to devote your mornings to Mr. Harte ; that I will 
have it so ; and that you dare not do otherwise. Lay it all 
upon me, though I am persuaded it will be as much your 

1 Alleys. 



94 lord chesterfield's letters. 

own inclination as il is mine. Bui those frivolous, idle 
people, whose time hangs upon their own hands, and who 
desire to make others lose theirs too, are not to be reasoned 

with; and indeed it would be doing thou too much honor. 

'Idie shortest civil answers air the best; / cannot) I <i<irc 

not, instead of / will not; lor. if you were to enter with 

them into the necessity of study, and the asefulnes 

knowledge, il would only furnish them with matter lor their 
silly jests ; which, though I would not have you mind. I would 
not have you invite. I will suppose you at Rome, study- 
in-- six hours uninterruptedly with Mr. I (arte, every morn- 
ing, and passing your evenings with the best company of 
Home, observing their manners and forming your own; and 
I will suppose a number of idle, sauntering, illiterate Eng- 
lish, as there commonly is there, living entirely with one 
another, supping, drinking, and sitting up late at each 
other's lodgings; commonly in riots and scrapes when 
drunk; and never in good company when sober. . . . 
Adieu. 

LETTER XXXII. 

ABSKNT-M I XDKDX ESS. 

London, September 22, () . S. 17 4'.'. 
Deaf Boy, 

If I had faith in philters and love potions, I should sus- 
pect that you had given Sir Charles Williams some, by the 
manner in which he speaks of you, not only to me, but to 
everybody else. I will not repeat to you what he says of 
the extenl and correctness of your knowledge, as it might 
either make you vain, or persuade you that you had already 
enough of what nobody can have too much. You will easily 
imagine how many questions I asked, and how narrowly I 

sifted him upon your subject; he answered me. and I dare 

say with truth, just as I could have wished; till, satisfied 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 95 

entirely with his accounts of your character and learning, I 
inquired into other matters, intrinsically indeed of less con- 
sequence, but still of great consequence, to every man, and 
of more to you than to almost any man ; I mean your ad- 
dress, manners, and air. To these questions, the same truth 
which he had observed before, obliged him to give me much 
less satisfactory answers. And, as he thought himself, in 
friendship both to you and me, obliged to tell me the dis- 
agreeable, as well as the agreeable, truths, upon the same 
principle I think myself obliged to repeat them to you. 

He told me, then, that in company you were frequently 
most provokingly inattentive, absent, and distrait; 1 that you 
came into a room and presented yourself very awkwardly ; 
that at table you constantly threw down knives, forks, nap- 
kins, bread, etc., and that you neglected your person and 
dress, to a degree unpardonable at any age, and much more 
so at yours. 

These things, how immaterial soever they may seem to 
people who do not know the world and the nature of man- 
kind, give me, who know them to be exceedingly material, 
very great concern. I have long distrusted you, and there- 
fore frequently admonished you, upon these articles ; and I 
tell you plainly that I shall not be easy till I hear a very 
different account of them. I know no one thing more 
offensive to a company than that inattention and distraction. 
It is showing them the utmost contempt, and people never 
forget contempt. No man is distrait with the man he fears, 
or the woman he loves ; which is a proof that every man 
can get the better of that distraction when he thinks it worth 
his while to do so ; and, take my word for it, it is always 
worth his while. For my own part, I would rather be in 
company with a dead man than with an absent one ; for if 
the dead man gives me no pleasure, at least he shows me 
no contempt; whereas the absent man, silently indeed, but 
1 Lost in thought. 



96 lord chesterfield's letters. 

very plainly, tells me that be does not think me worth his 

attention. Besides, can an absent man make anj observa- 
tions upon the characters, customs, and manners of the 
company? No. He may be in the best companies all his 

Lifetime (if thej will admit him. which, if I were they, I 

would not i and never be one jot the wiser. I never will 
converse with an absent man; one may as well talk t<> a 
deaf one. It is in truth a practical blunder to address our- 
selves to a man, who, we .see plainly, neither hears, minds, 
nor understands us. Moreover, I aver that no man is, in 
any degree, fit for either business or conversation, who can- 
not, and dm'* not, direct and command his attention to the 
present object, be that what it will. ... I give you fair 
warning that when we meet, if you are absent in mind, I 
will soon be absent in body, for it will be impossible for me 
to stay in the room. I expect you not only well dressed, 
but very well dressed: I expect a gracefulness in all your 
motions, ami something particularly engaging in your ad- 
dress. All this I expect, and all this is in your power, by 
care and attention, to make me find ; but to tell you the 
plain truth, if I do not find it, we shall not converse very 
much together, for I cannot stand inattention and awkward- 
ness : it would endanger my health. You have often seen, 

and I have as often made you observe, L \s distinguished 

inattention and awkwardness. Wrapped up, like a Lapu- 
tan, in intense thought, and possibly sometimes in no 
thought at all; which I believe is very often the case of 
ali-cut people; he does not know his most intimate acquaint- 
ance by Bight, or answers them as if he were at cross-pur- 
poses. lie leaves his hat in one room, his sword in another, 
and would leave his shoes in a third, if his buckles, though 
awry, did not save them: his Legs and arms, by his awk- 
ward management of them. Beemed to have undergone the 
Question extraordinaire ; ' and his head, always hanging upon 

1 Torture. 



LORD chesterfield's lTetters. 97 

one or other of his shoulders, seems to have received the 
first stroke upon a block. I sincerely value and esteem him 
for his parts, learning, and virtue ; but for the soul of me 
I cannot love him in company. This will be universally 
the case in common life, of every inattentive, awkward man, 
let his real merit and knowledge be ever so great. When I 
was of your age I desired to shine, as far as I was able, in 
every part of life ; and was as attentive to my manners, my 
dress, and my air, in company on evenings, as to my books 
and my tutor in the mornings. A young fellow should be 
ambitious to shine in everything ; and, of the two, always 
rather overdo than underdo. These things are by no means 
trifles ; they are of infinite consequence to those who are to 
be thrown into the great world, and who would make a fig- 
ure or a fortune in it. It is not sufficient to deserve well ; 
one must please well too. Awkward, disagreeable merit will 
never carry anybody far. Wherever you find a good dancing- 
master pray let him put you upon your haunches : not so 
much for the sake of dancing, as for coming into a room, and 
presenting yourself genteelly and gracefully. Women, whom 
you ought to endeavor to please, cannot forgive a vulgar and 
awkward air and gestures ; il leurfautdu brillant. 1 The gen- 
erality of men are pretty like them, and are equally taken 
by the same exterior graces. 

I am very glad that you have received the diamond 
buckles safe : all I desire, in return for them, is, that they 
may be buckled even upon your feet, and that your stock- 
ings may not hide them. I should be sorry you were an 
egregious fop ; but I protest that, of the two, I would rather 
have you a fop than a sloven. I think negligence in my 
own dress, even at my age, when certainly I expect no 
advantages from my dress, would be indecent with regard 
to others. I have done with fine clothes ; but I will have 
my plain clothes fit me, and made like other people's. In 
1 They must have polish. 

H 



98 lord chesterfield's letters. 

tlic evenings, I recommend to you the company of vromen 

of fashion, who have a right to attention, and will be paid 
it. Their company will smooth your manners, and give you 
a habit ^i attention ami respect ; of which you will find the 
advantage among men. 

My plan for you, from the beginning, has been to make 

you shine, equally in the learned and in the polite world; 

the former part is almost completed to my wishes, and will, 

1 am persuaded, in a little time more, he tpiite so. The lat- 
ter part is still in your power to complete ; and 1 flatter 
myself that you will do it, or else the former part will avail 
you very little, especially in your department, where the 
exterior address and graces do hall' the business; they must 
he the harbingers of your merit, or your merit will he very 
coldly received: all can and do judge of the former, tew of 

the latter. 

Mr. Ilarte tells me that you have grown very much since 
your illness: if you get up to five feet ten. or even nine, 
inches, your figure will, probably, be a good one: and, if 
well dressed and genteel, will probably please, which is a 
much greater advantage to a man than people commonly 
think. Lord Bacon calls it a letter of recommendation. 

I would wish you to be the amnis homo. Vhomme universeV 
You are nearer to it, if you please, than ever anybody was 
at your age; and if you will but, for the course of this next 
year only, exert your whole attention to your studies in the 
mornings, and to your address, manners, air, and taurnure* 
in the evenings, you will be the man I wish you. and the 
man that is rarely seen. 

Our letters go, at best, so irregularly, and so often mis- 
carry totally, that, for greater .security, 1 repeat the same 

things. So, though I acknowledged by last post Mr. Harte's 

letter of the St h September, N. 8., I acknowledge it again by 

this to you. If this should find you still at Verona, let it 

1 Th<* universal man. * Appearance. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 99 

inform you that I wish you would set out soon for Naples, 
unless Mr. Harte should think it better for you to stay at 
Verona, or any other place on this side Rome, till you go 
there for the Jubilee. Nay, if he likes it better, I am very 
willing that you should go directly from Verona to Rome ; 
for you cannot have too much of Rome, whether upon 
account of the language, the curiosities, or the company. 
My only reason for mentioning Naples is for the sake of the 
climate, upon account of your health ; but if Mr. Harte 
thinks your health is now so well restored as to be above 
climate, he may steer your course wherever he thinks 
proper ; and, for aught I know, your going directly to Rome, 
and consequently staying there so much the longer, may be 
as well as anything else. . . . Adieu, my dear child. 



XXXIII. 

VULGARITY IN SPEECH AND MANNERS. 

London, September 27, O. S. 1749. 
Dear Boy, 

A vulgar ordinary way of thinking, acting, or speaking, 
implies a low education, and a habit of low company. 
Young people contract it at school, or among servants, with 
whom they are too often used to converse ; but, after they 
frequent good company, they must want attention and 
observation very much, if they do not lay it quite aside. 
And indeed if they do not, good company will be very apt 
to lay them aside. The various kinds of vulgarisms are 
infinite ; I cannot pretend to point them out to you ; but I 
will give you some samples, by which you may guess at the 
rest. 

A vulgar man is captious and jealous ; eager and impetu- 
ous about trifles. He suspects himself to be slighted, thinks 
everything that is said meant at him ; if the company hap- 

LefC. 



100 U >RD CHBS lERFIELD'S LEI PBRS. 

pens i" laugh, he is persuaded they laugh at him; he gi 
angry and testy, something very impertinent, and 

draws himself into a scrape, by showing whit he calls a 
proper spirit, and asserting himself. A man of lash inn does 
not suppose himself to be either the sole or principal object 
of the thoughts, looks, or words of the company ; and never 
Buspects that he is either slighted or laughed at, unless he is 
conscious thai he deserves it. And if (which very seldom 
happens) the company is absurd or ill-bred enough to do 
either, he dors not care twopence, unless tin* insult tx 

-and plain as to require satisfaction of another kind. 
As he is above trifles, he is never vehement and eager about 
them : and, wherever they arc concerned, rather acquie 
than wrangles. A vulgar man's conversation always savors 
strongly of the lowness of his education and company. 
It turns chiefly upon his domestic affairs, his servants, 
the excellent order he keeps in his own family, and 
the little anecdotes of the neighborhood; all which he 
relates with emphasis, as interesting matters. He is a man 
gossip> 

Vulgarism in language is the next and distinguishing 
characteristic of had company and a bad education. A man 
of fashion avoids nothing with more care than that. Pro- 
verbial expressions and trite sayings are the flowers of the 
rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he say that men differ in 
their tastes, he both supports and adorns that opinion by the 
good old saying, as he respectfully calls it, that what is <>>" 
//urn's Meal is another man 1 f s Poison. If anybody attempts 
being smart, as he calls it, upon him, he gives them Tit for 
Tat } ay, that he does. He has always some favorite word 
tor the time being, which, for the sake of using often, he 
commonly abuses. Such as vastly angry, vastly kind, vastly 
handsome, and vastly ugly. Even his pronunciation of 
proper words carries the mark of the beast along with it. 
He ealls the earth y earth; he is obi* >>j>< I not obliged to you. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 101 

He goes to wards and not towards such a place. He some- 
times affects hard words, by way of ornament, which he 
always mangles like a learned woman. A man of fashion 
never has recourse to proverbs and vulgar aphorisms, uses 
neither favorite words nor hard words ; but takes great care 
to speak very correctly and grammatically, and to pronounce 
properly; that is, according to the usage of the best com- 
panies. 

An awkward address, ungraceful attitudes and actions, 
and a certain left-handiness (if I may use that word), 
loudly proclaim low education and low company ; for it is 
impossible to suppose that a man can have frequented good 
company, without having caught something, at least, of 
their air arid motions. A new-raised man is distinguished 
in a regiment by his awkwardness ; but he must be impene- 
trably dull if, in a month or two's time, he cannot perform 
at least the common manual exercise, and look like a sol- 
dier. The very accoutrements of a man of fashion are 
grievous encumbrances to a vulgar man. He is at a loss 
what to do with his hat, when it is not upon his head ; his 
cane (if unfortunately he wears one) is at perpetual v^ar 
with every cup of tea or coffee he drinks ; destroys them 
first, and then accompanies them in their fall. His sword 
is formidable only to his own legs, which would possibly 
carry him fast enough out of the way of any sword but his 
own. His clothes fit him so ill, and constrain him so much, 
that he seems rather their prisoner than their proprietor. 
He presents himself in company like a criminal in a court 
of justice; his very air comdemns him; and people of 
fashion will no more connect themselves with the one, than 
people of character will with the other. This repulse 
drives and sinks him into low company; a gulf from 
whence no man, after a certain age, ever emerged. 

Les mani&res nobles et aisees, la tournnre dhin homme de 
condition, le ton de la bonne compagnie, les Grdces, le je ne 



102 lord chesterfield's letters. 

sais quoij qui plait, 1 are as necessary to adorn and introduce 

your intrinsic merit and knowledge, as the polish is to the 

diamond, which, without thai polish, would never be worn, 

whatever it might weigh. Do not imagine that these ac- 
complishments are only useful with women; they are much 
more so with men. In a public assembly, what an advan- 
tage has a graceful Bpeaker, with genteel motions, a hand- 
Bome figure, and a liberal air, over one who shall Bpeak full 
as much good sense, bu1 destitute of these ornaments! In 
business, how prevalent are the Graces, how detrimental is 
the want of them ! By the help of these I have known 
some men refuse favors less offensively than others granted 
them. The utility of them in courts, and negotiations, is 
inconceivable. You gain the hearts and consequently the 
secrets, of nine in ten that you have to do with, in spite 
even of their prudence, which will, nine times in ten, be the 
dupe of their hearts, and of their senses. Consider the 
importance of these things as they deserve, and yon will not 
lose one moment in the pursuit of them. 

You arc travelling now in a country once so famous both 
for arts and arms, that (however degenerated at presenl | it 
still deserves your attention and reflection. View it. there- 
fore, with care, compart 1 its former with its present state, 
and examine into the causes of its rise, and its decay. Con- 
sider it classically and politically, and do not run through it. 
as too many of your young country men do, musically, and 
(to use a ridiculous word) knick-knackically. No piping nor 
fiddling, I beseech you; no days lost in poring upon almost 
imperceptible Intaglios * and Cameos 9 : and do not become a 
Virtuoso 4 of small wares. Form a taste of Painting, Sculp- 
ture, and Architecture, if you please, by a careful examina- 

1 Noble and graceful manners, the elegance »>f a man <>f position, the 
taste ol g< "•! company, the Graces, and I know not what, if it pleases. 
- a figure nit in a stone, causing a depression. 
\ carving in relief. 

4 One «k-\ Oted to the line arts : a collector »•! curiosities. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 103 

tion of the works of the best ancient and modern artists ; 
those are liberal arts, and a real taste and knowledge of 
them become a man of fashion very well. But, beyond cer- 
tain bounds, the Man of Taste ends, and the frivolous Vir- 
tuoso begins. 

Your friend Mendes, the good Samaritan, dined with me 
yesterday. He has more good nature and generosity than 
parts. However, I will show him all the civilities that his 
kindness to you so justly deserves; he tells me that you 
are taller than I am, which I am very glad of. I desire you 
may excel me in everything else too ; and, far from repin- 
ing, I shall rejoice at your superiority. He commends your 
friend Mr, Stevens extremely ; of whom, too, I have heard 
so good a character from other people, that I am very glad 
of your connection with him. It may prove of use to you 
hereafter. When you meet with such sort of Englishmen 
abroad, who, either from their parts or their rank, are likely 
to make a figure at home, I would advise you to cultivate 
them, and get their favorable testimony of you here, espe- 
cially those who are to return to England before you. Sir 
Charles Williams has puffed you (as the mob call it) here 
extremely. If three or four more people of parts do the 
same, before you come back, your first appearance in Lon- 
don will be to great advantage. Many people do, and in- 
deed ought, to take things upon trust ; many more do who 
need not ; and few ciare dissent from an established opinion. 
Adieu. 

LETTER XXXIV. 

THE ADORNING OF KNOWLEDGE. 

London, November 24, 0. S. 1749. 
Dear Boy, 

I have written to you so often of late upon Good Breed- 
ing, Address, les Mani&res liantis, 1 the Graces, etc., that I 
1 The affable manners. 



104 LORD chesterfield's letters, 

shall confine this letter to another subject, pretty near akin 

to thmi. ami which, I am suit, you arc lull a*> deficient in; 
I mean. Style. 

Style is the dress of thoughts; ami lei them be ever so 

just, it' your style is homely, coarse, ami vulgar, they will 

appear to as much disadvantage, and he as ill received, as 

your person, though ever so well-proportioned, would it 

dressed in rags, dirt, ami tatters. It is not every under- 
standing thai can judge of matter; hut every ear can and 
i\m^ judge, more or less, of .style: and were I either to 
speak or write to the public, I should prefer moderate mat- 
ter, adorned with all the beauties and elegancies of style, to 
the strongest matter in the world, ill worded and ill deliv- 
ered. Your business is negotiation abroad and oratory in 
the House of Commons at home. What figure can you 
make in either case, if your style he inelegant, I do not say 
bad ? Imagine yourself writing an office-letter to a Secre- 
tary of State, which letter is to be read by the whole ( labinet 
Council, and very possibly afterwards laid before Parlia- 
ment ; any one barbarism, solecism, or vulgarism in it would, 
in a very few days, circulate through the whole kingdom, 
to your disgrace and ridicule. For instance ; I will suppose 
you had written the following letter from the Hague, to the 
Secretary of State at London; and leave you to suppose the 
consequences of it. 

M v Lord, 

I //'/'/, last night, the honor of your Lordship's letter of 

the 24th, and will set about doing the orders contained 

therein : ami if so be that 1 can get that affair done by the 

next post, I will not fail for to give your Lordship an account 
of it by next j><>st. I have told the French Minister, as I<o»\ 
that if that affair be not soon concluded, your Lordship 
would think it (/// long Of him ; and that he must have 
neglected for to have wrote to his Court about it, I must 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 105 

beg leave to put your Lordship in mind, as how that I am 
now full three quarters in arrear ; and if so be that I do not 
very soon receive at least one half year, I shall cut a very 
bad figure, for this here place is very dear. I shall be vastly 
beholden to your Lordship for that there mark of your favor ; 
and so I rest, or remain, Your, etc. 

You will tell me, possibly, that this is a caricatura of an 
illiberal and inelegant style ; I will admit it : but assure 
you, at the same time, that a dispatch with less than half 
these faults would blow you up for ever. It is by no means 
sufficient to be free from faults in speaking and writing ; 
you must do both correctly and elegantly. In faults of this 
kind it is not ille optimus qui minimis urgetur 1 ; but he is 
unpardonable who has any at all, because it is his own 
fault : he need only attend to, observe, and imitate the best 
authors. 

It is a very true saying, that a man must be born a poet, 
but that he may make himself an orator ; and the very first 
principle of an orator is, to speak his own language particu- 
larly, with the utmost purity and elegancy. A man will be 
forgiven even great errors in a foreign language, but in his 
own even the least slips are justly laid hold of and ridiculed. 

A person of the House of Commons, speaking two years 
ago upon naval affairs, asserted that we had then the finest 
navy upon the face of the y earth. This happy mixture of 
blunder and vulgarism, you may easily imagine, was matter 
of immediate ridicule ; but I can assure you that it continues 
so still, and will be remembered as long as he lives and 
speaks. Another, speaking in defence of a gentleman upon 
whom a censure was moved, happily said, that he thought 
that gentleman was more liable to be thanked and rewarded, 
than censured. You know, I presume, that liable can never 
be used in a good sense. 

1 He is greatest who is moved by the smallest things. 



106 lord chesterfield's letters. 

Yon have with you three or four of the besl English 
Authors, Dryden, 1 A-tterbury, 1 and Swift 1 ; read them with 
the utmosi care, and with a particular view to their lan- 
guage; and they may possibly correct thai curious infelicity 
of diction, which you acquired al Westminster. Mr. Harta 
excepted, I will admit that you have met with very few 
English abroad, who could improve your style; and with 
many, I dare Bay, who speak as ill as yourself, and it may 
be worse; you must, therefore, take the more pains, and 
consult your authors, and Mr. Harte, the more. I need not 
tell you how attentive the Romans and Greeks, particularly 
the Athenians, were to this object. It is also a study 
among the Italians and the French, witness their respective 
Academies and Dictionaries, for improving and fixing their 
languages. To our shame be it spoken, it is less attended 
to here than in any polite country; but that is no reason 
why you should not attend to it; on the contrary, it will 
distinguish you the more. Cicero says, very truly, that it 
is glorious to excel other men in that very article, in which 
men excel brutes ; speech. 

Constant experience has shown me, that great purity and 
elegance of style, with a graceful elocution, cover a multitude 
of faults, in either a speaker or a writer. For my own part, 
I confess (and I believe most people are of my mind) that if 
a Bpeaker should ungracefully mutter or stammer out to me 
the sense of an angel, deformed by barbarisms and solecisms, 
or larded with vulgarisms, he should never speak to me a 
second time, if I could help it. (Jain the heart, or you gain 
nothing; the eyes and the ears are the only roads to the 
heart. Merit and knowledge will not gain hearts, though 
they will secure them when gained. Pray have that truth 
ever in your mind. Engage tic eyes, by your address, air, 
and motions; soothe the ears, by the elegancy and harmony 

Contemporary English writers. D., L631-1700. A., 1662-1732. S., 

Mi 17- 174.'). 






LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 107 

of your diction : the heart will certainly follow ; and the 
whole man, or woman, will as certainly follow the heart. 
I must repeat it to you, over and over again, that, with all 
the knowledge which you may have at present, or hereafter 
acquire, and with all the merit that ever man had, if you 
have not a graceful address, liberal and engaging manners, 
a prepossessing air, and a good degree of eloquence in 
speaking and writing, you will be nobody : but will have 
the daily mortification of seeing people, with not one tenth 
part of your merit or knowledge, get the start of you, and 
disgrace you, both in company and in business. . . . Adieu. 

LETTER XXXV. 

TRUE ELOCUTION. 

London, December 9, 1749. 
Dear Boy, 

It is now above forty years since I have never spoken 
nor written one single word without giving myself at least 
one moment's time to consider whether it was a good one 
or a bad one, and whether I could not find out a better in 
its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, at this 
time, shocks my ears ; and I, like all the rest of the world, 
will willingly exchange and give up some degree of rough 
sense, for a good degree of pleasing sound. I will freely 
and truly own to you, without either vanity or false 
modesty, that whatever reputation I have acquired as a 
speaker is more owing to my constant attention to my 
diction, than to my matter, which was necessarily just the 
same as other people's. When you come into Parliament, 
your reputation as a speaker will depend much more upon 
your words, and your periods, than upon the subject. The 
same matter occurs equally to everybody of common 
sense, upon the same question ; the dressing it well is what 
excites the attention and admiration of the audience. 



Ins LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

It is in Parliament that I have Bel my heart upon your 
making a figure; it is there thai 1 want to have you justly 
proud of yourself, and to make me justly proud of you. 
This means thai you must be a good Bpeaker there; 1 

the wonl musty because 1 know you may it' you will. The 

vulgar, who arc always mistaken, look upon a speaker and 
a count with the same astonishment and admiration, 
taking them both Tor preternatural phenomena. This 

error discourages many young men from attempting that 
character; and good speakers are willing to have their 
talent considered as something wry extraordinary, if not a 
peculiar gilt of God to I lis elect. Bui let you and me analyze 
and simplify this good speaker; let us strip him of those 
adventitious plumes, with which his own pride, and the 
ignorance of others have decked him, and we shall find the 
t rue definition of him to be no more than this : — A man of 
good common sense, who reasons justly, and ex pi. 
himself elegantly on that subject upon which he speaks. 
There is surely no witchcraft in this. A man of sense, 
without a superior and astonishing degree of parts, will not 
talk nonsense upon any subject; nor will he. if he has the 
least taste or application, talk inelegantly. What, then, 
dots all this mighty art and mystery of speaking in Parlia- 
ment amount to? Why. no more than this. That the man 
who speaks in the House of Commons, speaks in that 
House, and to four hundred people, that opinion, upon a 
given .subject, which he would make no difficulty of 
speaking in any house in England, round the fire, or at 
table, to any fourteen people whatsoever: better judge.-, 
perhaps, and severer critics of what he -ays, than any 
fourteen gentlemen of the House of Commons. 

I have spoken frequently in Parliament, ami not always 
without .some applause: and therefore I can assure you, 
from my experience, that there is very little in it. The 

elegance of the style, and the turn of the periods, make the 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 109 

chief impression upon the hearers. Give the in but one or 
two round and harmonious periods in a speech, which they 
will retain and repeat ; and they will go home as well satisfied 
as people do from an opera, humming all the way one or 
two favorite tunes that have struck their ears and were 
easily caught. Most people have ears, but few have judg- 
ment; tickle those ears, and depend upon it you will catch 
their judgments, such as they are. 

Cicero, conscious that he was at the top of his profession 
(for in his time eloquence was a profession), in order to set 
himself off, defines, in his Treatise de Oratore, an orator to 
be such a man as never was, or never will be ; and, by this 
fallacious argument, says, that he must know every art and 
science whatsoever, or how shall he speak upon them ? 
But with submission to so great an authority, my definition 
of an orator is extremely different from, and I believe 
much truer than, his. I call that man an orator who 
reasons jnstly, and expresses himself elegantly upon what- 
ever subject he treats. Problems in Geometry, Equations 
in Algebra, Processes in Chemistry, and Experiments in 
Anatomy, are never, that I have heard of, the objects of 
eloquence; and therefore I humbly conceive that a man 
may be a very fine speaker, and yet know nothing of 
Geometry, Algebra, Chemistry, or Anatomy. The subjects 
of all Parliamentary debates are subjects of common sense 
singly. 

Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I think may 
contribute either to form or inform you. May my labor 
not be in vain ! and it will not, if you will but have half the 
concern for yourself that I have for you. Adieu. 



I LO U >RD CHES rERFIELD'S LET DEBS. 

LETTEB WXVI 

RELIGION. MORA LITY. ( IB A B \< TER. 

London, January 8, 0. s. L750. 
Deab Boy, 

I have .seldom or never written to you upon the sub- 
ject of Religion and Morality : your own reason, I am per- 
suaded, has given you true notions of both ; they speak besl 
tor themselves; but, if they wanted assistance, you have 
Mr. Harte at hand, both for precept and example: to your 

own reason, therefore, and to Mr. Harte, shall I refer you, 
for the reality of both; and confine myself, in this letter, 
to the decency, the utility, and the necessity of scrupu- 
lously preserving the appearances of both. When I say 
the appearances of religion, I do not mean that you should 
talk or act like a missionary, or an enthusiast, nor that 
you should take up a controversial cudgel against whoever 
attacks the sect you are of; this would be both useless, and 
unbecoming your age: but I mean that you should by no 
means seem to approve, encourage, or applaud, those liber- 
tine notions, which strike at religions equally, and which 
are the poor threadbare topics of half wits, and minute 
philosophers. Even those who are silly enough to laugh at 
their jokes are still wise enough to distrust and detest their 
characters: for, putting moral virtues at the highest, and 
religion at the lowest, religion must still be allowed to be a 
collateral security, at least, to virtue; and every prudent 
man will sooner trust to two securities than to one. When- 
ever, therefore, you happen to be in company with those 
pretended Esprits fort8 } or with thoughtless libertines, who 
laugh at all religion to show their wit, or disclaim it to com- 
plete their riot, let no word or look of yours intimate the 
least approbation ; on the contrary, let a silent gravity 
express your dislike : but enter not into the subject, and 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Ill 

decline such unprofitable and indecent controversies. De- 
pend upon this truth, That every man is the worse looked 
upon, and the less trusted, for being thought to have no 
religion ; in spite of all the pompous and specious epithets 
he may assume, of Esprit fort, free-thinker, or moral phi- 
losopher; and a wise atheist (if such a thing there is) 
would, for his own interest, and character in this world, 
pretend to some religion. 

Your moral character must be not only pure, but, like 
Caesar's wife, unsuspected. The least speck or blemish 
upon it is fatal. Nothing degrades and vilifies more, for it 
excites and unites detestation and contempt. There are, 
however, wretches in the world profligate enough to explode 
all notions of moral good and evil ; to maintain that they 
are merely local, and depend entirely upon the customs 
and fashions of different countries : nay, there are still, if 
possible, more unaccountable wretches ; I mean those who 
affect to preach and propagate such absurd and infamous 
notions, without believing them themselves. These are the 
devil's hypocrites. Avoid, as much as possible, the com- 
pany of such people ; who reflect a degree of discredit and 
infamy upon all who converse with them. But as you may 
sometimes, by accident, fall into such company, take great 
care that no complaisance, no good-humor, no warmth of 
festal mirth, ever make you seem even to acquiesce, much 
less to approve or applaud, such infamous doctrines. On the 
other hand, do not debate, nor enter into serious argument, 
upon a subject so much below it : but content yourself with 
telling these Apostles, that you know they are not serious ; 
that you have a much better opinion of them than they 
would have you have ; and that you are very sure they 
would not practise the doctrine they preach. But put your 
private mark upon them, and shun them for ever after- 
wards. 

There is nothing so delicate as your moral character, and 



112 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

nothing which it is your interesl bo much to preserve pure. 
Should you be Buspected of injustice, malignity, per- 
fidy, lying, etc., all the parts and knowledge in the world 
will never procure you esteem, friendship, or respect. A 
Btrange concurrence of circumstances lias sometimes raised 
wry bad liit'D to 1 1 i *_!, 1 i stations ; bul they have been raised 
like criminals to a pillory, where their persons and their 
crimes, by being more conspicuous, an* only the more 
known, the more detested, and the more pelted and insulted. 
If, in any case whatsoever, affectation and ostentation are 
pardonable, it is in the case of morality ; though, even 
there, I would not advise you to a pharisaical pomp of 
virtue. But I will recommend to you a most scrupulous 
tenderness for your moral character, and the utmost care 
not to say or do the least thing that may. ever bo slightly, 
taint it. Show yourself, upon all occasions, the advocate, 
the friend, but not the bully, of virtue. Colonel Chartres, 
whom you have certainly heard of (who was, 1 believe, the 
mosl notorious blasted rascal in the world, and who had, by 
all sorts of crimes, amassed immense wealth), was so sen- 
sible of the disadvantage of a bad character, that I heard 
him once say, in his impudent, profligate manner, that 
though he would not give one farthing for virtue, he would 
give ten thousand pounds for a character; because he 
should get a hundred thousand pounds by it : whereas he 
was so blasted that he had no longer an opportunity of 
cheating people. [s it possible, then, that an honest man 
can neglect what a wise rogue would purchase so dear'/ 

There is one of the vices above-mentioned, into which 
people of good education, and, in the main, of good prin- 
ciples, sometimes fall, from mistaken notions of skill, dex- 
terity, and self-defence ; L mean lying: though it is 
inseparably attended with more infamy and loss than any 
Other. The prudence and necessity of often concealing 
the truth insensibly seduces people to violate it. It is 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 113 

the only art of mean capacities, and the only refuge of 
mean spirits. Whereas concealing the truth, upon proper 
occasions, is as prudent and as innocent, as telling a lie, 
upon any occasion, is infamous and foolish. I will state you 
a case in your own department. Suppose you are employed 
at a foreign court, and that the minister of that court 
is absurd or impertinent enough to ask you what your 
instructions are, will you tell him a lie, which, as soon 
as found out, and found out it certainly will be, must 
destroy your credit, blast your character, and render you 
useless there ? No. Will you tell him the truth, then, 
and betray your trust ? As certainly, no. But you will 
answer, with firmness, that you are surprised at such a 
question ; that you are persuaded he does not expect an 
answer to it ; but that, at all events, he certainly will not 
have one. Such an answer will give him confidence in 
you ; he will conceive an opinion of your veracity, of 
which opinion you may afterwards make very honest and 
fair advantages. But if, in negotiations, you are looked 
upon as a liar, and a trickster, no confidence will be 
placed in you, nothing will be communicated to you, and 
you will be in the situation of a man who has been burnt 
in the cheek ; and who, from that mark, cannot afterwards 
get an honest livelihood, if he would, but must continue a 
thief. 

Lord Bacon very justly makes a distinction between 
Simulation and Dissimulation ; and allows the latter rather 
than the former: but still observes, that they are the 
weaker sort of Politicians who have recourse to either. A 
man who has strength of mind, and strength of parts, wants 
neither of them. Certainly (says he) the ablest men that ever 
were have all had an openness and frankness of dealing, and 
a name of certainty and veracity ; but then they ivere like 
horses ivell managed ; for they could tell, passing well, ivhen to 
stop, or turn : and at such times, ivhen they thought the case 



Ill LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

indeed required some dissimulation) if then they used U f it came 
to pass thai the former opinion spread abroad) of their good 
faith and clearness of dealing^ made them almost invisible. 
There are people who indulge themselves m a Borl of Lying, 

which they reckon innocent, and which iii one .sense is BOj 
for it hurts nobody but themselves. This sort of lying is 

the spurious offspring of canity, begotten upon folly: these 

people deal in the marvellous ; they have seen some things 
that never existed; they have seen other things which they 
never really saw, though they did exist, only because they 
were thought worth seeing. Has anything remarkable been 

said or done in any place, or in any company ? they im- 
mediately present and declare themselves eye or ear wit- 
nesses of it. They have done feats themselves, unattempted, 
or at least unperformed, by others. They are always the 
beroes of their own fables; and think that they gain con- 
sideration, or at least present attention, by it. Whereas, in 
truth, all they get is ridicule and contempt, not without a 
good degree of distrust: for one must naturally conclude, that 
he who will tell any lie from idle vanity, will not scruple 
telling a greater for interest. Had I really seen anything 
so very extraordinary as to be almost incredible, I would 
keep it to myself, rather than, by telling it, give any one 
body room to doubt tor one minute my veracity. . . . 

Adiell. 

LETTEE XXXVI I. 

ECONOMY of TIME. 

London, February 5, O. S. 1750. 
Mv Dbab Friend, 

Yr.nv lew people are good economists of their fortune, 

and still fewer of their time; and yet, of the two, the 
latter is the most precious. 1 heartily wish you to be a 
good economist <^[ both ; and you are now of an age to begin 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 115 

to think seriously of these two important articles. Young 
people are apt to think they have so much time before them, 
that they may squander what they please of it, and yet 
have enough left; as very great fortunes have frequently 
seduced people to a ruinous profusion. Fatal mistakes, 
always repented of, but always too late ! Old Mr. Lowndes, 
the famous Secretary of the Treasury, in the reigns of King 
William, Queen Anne, and King George the First, used to 
say, Take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of 
themselves. To this maxim, which he not only preached, 
but practised, his two grandsons, at this time, owe the very 
considerable fortunes that he left them. 

This holds equally true as to time ; and I most earnestly 
recommend to you the care of those minutes and quarters 
of hours, in the course of the day, which people think too 
short to deserve their attention ; and yet, if summed up at 
the end of the year, would amount to a very considerable 
portion of time. For example; you are to be at such a 
place at twelve, by appointment ; you go out at eleven, to 
make two or three visits first; those persons are not at 
home: instead of sauntering away that intermediate time 
at a coffee-house, and possibly alone, return home, write a 
letter, beforehand, for the ensuing post, or take up a good 
book, I do not mean Descartes, Mallebranche, Locke, or 
Newton, 1 by way of dipping, but some book of rational 
amusement, and detached pieces, as Horace, Boileau, Wal- 
ler, La Bruyere, 2 etc. This will be so much time saved, 
and by no means ill employed. Many people lose a great 
deal of time by reading; for they read frivolous and idle 
books, such as the absurd Romances of the two last centu- 
ries ; where characters, that never existed, are insipidly 
displayed, and sentiments, that were never felt, pompously 
described: the oriental ravings and extravagancies of the 

1 Famous man in science and philosophy. 

2 Noted critics and poets. 



1 L6 LORD CHESTERFIELD 8 LETTERS. 

Arabian Nights, 1 and Mogul Tales-: or the new flimsy 
brochures, thai dow swarm in Prance, of Fairy Talcs; and 
such sorl of idle frivolous stuff, thai nourishes and im- 
proves the mind ju.M as much as whipped cream would the 
body. Stick to the besl established hooks in every lan- 
guage; the celebrated poets, historians, oratots, or philoso- 
phers. By these means (to use a city metaphor) you will 
make fifty percent, of that time, of which others do not 
make above three or lour, or probably nothing at all. 

Many people lose a great deal of their lime by la/.im 
they loll and yawn in a greal chair, tell themselves that they 
have not time to begin anything then, and that it will do as 
well another time. This is a most unfortunate disposition, 
and tin 1 greatest obstruction to both knowledge and business. 
At your age, you have no righl nor claim to laziness j I have, 
if I please, being emeritus. You are hut just listed in the 
w<»rld. ami must he active, diligent, indefatigable. If ever 
you propose commanding with dignity, you must serve up 
to it with diligence. Never put off till to-morrow what you 
can do to-day. 

Dispatch is the soul of business; and nothing contributes 
more to dispatch, than method. Lay down a method for 
everything, and stick to it inviolably, as far as unexpected 
incidents may allow. Fix one certain hour and day in the 
week for your accompts, and keep them together in their 
proper order: by which means they will require very little 
time, and you can never bo much cheated. Whatever let- 
ters and papers you keep, docket and tie them up in their 
respective classes, 30 that you may instantly have recourse 
to any one. Lay down a method also for your reading, for 
which you allot a certain share of your mornings : let i\ 
in a consistent and consecutive course, and not in that desul- 
tory and unmethodical manner, in which many people read 

1 Collection of oriental stories, sunn- traditional, others traced t<> fact. 
- I ilea oi the Tartars in India. Begun in 1626. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 117 

scraps of different authors, upon different subjects. Keep 
a useful and short commonplace book of what you read, to 
help your memory only, and not for pedantic quotations. 
Never read history without having maps, and a chronologi- 
cal book, or tables, lying by you, and constantly recurred 
to ; without which, history is only a confused heap of facts. 
One method more I recommend to you, by which I have 
found great benefit, even in the most dissipated part of my 
life ; that is, to rise early, and at the same hour every morn- 
ing, how late soever you may have sat up the night before. 
This secures you an hour or two, at least, of reading or 
reflection, before the common interruptions of the morning 
begin ; and it will save your constitution, by forcing you to 
go to bed early, at least one night in three. 

You will say, it may be, as many young people would, 
that all this order and method is very troublesome, only lit 
for dull people, and a disagreeable restraint upon the noble 
spirit and fire of youth. I deny it ; and assert, on the con- 
trary, that it will procure you both more time and more 
taste for your pleasures ; and so far from being troublesome 
to you, that after you have pursued it a month it would be 
troublesome to you to lay it aside. Business whets the 
appetite, and gives a taste to pleasures, as exercise does to 
food : and business can never be done without method : it 
raises the spirits for pleasure ; and a spectacle, a ball, an 
assembly, will much more sensibly affect a man who has 
employed, than a man who has lost, the preceding part of 
the day; nay, I will venture to say, that a fine lady will 
seem to have more charms to a man of study or business, 
than to a saunterer. The same listlessness runs through 
his whole conduct, and he is as insipid in his pleasures as 
inefficient in everything else. 

I hope you earn your pleasures, and consequently taste 
them ; for, by the way, I know a great many men, who call 
themselves men of pleasure, but who, in truth, have none. 



I 1 8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

They adopt other people's indiscriminately, but without any 
taste of their own. I have known them often inflict exce 
upon t In 'in. s« -Ives, because thej thought them genteel ; though 
they sat as awkwardly upon tliem as other people's clothes 
would have done. Have no pleasures bul your own. and then 
you will shine in them. What are yours? Give me a Bhorl 
history of them. . . . JTou may safely trust me ; for, though 

1 am a sr\nv censor of vice and lolly, I am a friend and 

advocate of pleasures, and will contribute all in my power 
to 3 ours. 

There is a certain dignity to be kepi up in pleasures, 
well as in business. In love, a man may lose his heart with 
dignity; but it' he loses his nose, he Loses his character into 
tin- bargain. At table a man may with decency have a 
distinguishing palate; but indiscriminate voraciousness de- 
grades him to a glutton. A man may play with decency; 
but if he games, he is disgraced. Vivacity and wit make a 
man shim 1 in company: but trite jokes and loud laughter 
reduce him to a buffoon. Every virtue, they say, has its 
kindred vice; cvm-y pleasure, I am sure, has its neighboring 
disgrace. .Mark carefully, therefore, the line that sepai 
them, and rather stop a yard short, than .step an inch be- 
yond it. 

I wish toGod that you had as much pleasure in following 
my advice, as 1 have in giving it you: and you may the 
easier have it, as 1 give you none that is inconsistent with 
your pleasure. In all that I say to you, it is your inte 

alone that 1 consider: trust to my experience: you know 
you ma\ to my affection. Adieu. 

1 have received no letter yet, from you or Mr. Ilarte. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 119 

LETTER XXXVIII. 

CLEAR ENUNCIATION. 

London, July 9, O. S. 1750. 
My Dear Friend, 

I should not deserve that appellation in return from you, 
if I did not freely and explicitly inform you of every cor- 
rigible defect, which I may either hear of, suspect, or at any 
time discover in you. Those who in the common course of 
the world will call themselves your friends, or whom, 
according to the common notions of friendship, you may 
possibly think such, will never tell you of your faults, still 
less of your weaknesses. But on the contrary, more desir- 
ous to make you their friend than to prove themselves 
yours, they will flatter both, and, in truth, not be sorry for 
either. Interiorly, most people enjoy the inferiority of their 
best friends. The useful and essential part of friendship to 
you is reserved singly for Mr. Harte and myself ; our rela- 
tions to you stand pure, and unsuspected of all private 
views. In whatever we say to you, we can have no interest 
but yours. We can have no competition, no jealousy, no 
secret envy or malignity. We are therefore authorized to 
represent, advise, and remonstrate ; and your reason must 
tell you that you ought to attend to and believe us. 

I am credibly informed that there is still a considerable 
hitch or hobble in your enunciation; and that when you 
speak fast, you sometimes speak unintelligibly. I have 
formerly and frequently laid my thoughts before you so 
fully upon this subject, that I can say nothing new upon it 
now. I must therefore only repeat, that your whole depends 
upon it. Your trade is to speak well, both in public and in 
private. The manner of your speaking is full as important 
as the matter, as more people have ears to be tickled than 
understandings to judge. Be your productions ever so good, 



i 20 U >RD I ii E8 i BRF1 BLD'S LETTERS. 

they will be of no use, if you Btifle and strangle them in 
their birth. The best compositions of Corelli, 1 ii' ill 
cutedj and played oul of time, instead of touching, as they 
do when well performed, would only excite the indignation 
of the hearers, when murdered by an unskilful performer. 
1 »ui to murder your own productions, and thai coram populof 
is a Medean* cruelt% which Horace absolutely forbids. 
Remember of what importance Demosthenes/ and one of 
the Gracchi/ thought enunciation; read what stress Cicero 6 
and Quintilian 7 lay upon it; even the herb-women at At hens 
were correel judges of it. Oratory with all its graces, that 
of enunciation in particular, is full as necessary in our 

eminent, as ii ever was in Greece Or Rome. Xn man can 

make a fortune or a figure in this country, without speaking, 
and speaking well, in public. If yon will persuade, you 

must first please; and if you will please, yon must time 

your voice to harmony; yon must articulate every syllable 

distinctly : your emphasis and cadences must be strongly and 

properly marked; and the whole together must be graceful 
and engaging ; if yon do not speak in that manner, yon had 
much better not speak at all. All the learning yon have, or 

ever can have. i> not wort h one grout without it. It may be a 
comfort and an amusement to yon in your closet, but can be 
of no use to yon in the world. Let me conjure yon there- 
lore to make this your only object, till yon have absolutely 
<•( hi (pie red it. for that is in your power ; think of nothing else, 

read and speak for nothing else. Read aloud, though alone, 
and read articulately and distinctly, as if yon were reading 

1 Celebrated composer and violin player (1653-1713). 

- in person among tin- people. 

•"• Medea, a famous character in Greek mythology, wasthe wife of Jason, 
whom she assisted in finding the Golden Fleece. She was noted for her 
sorceries and the practice of magic arts. She killed her rival, Glance, 
and Blew her children. 

4 Athenian orator (38J 322 B.C.). 
Brothers; Roman statesmen (160-121 B.C.); (168-133 B.C.). 
i: man orator 1 106 L3 B.C.). 

7 Roman rhetorician and critic (42 118 a.D.). 



LORD CHESTERFIELp'S LETTERS. 121 

in public, and on the most important occasion. Recite 
pieces of eloquence, declaim scenes of tragedies to Mr. 
Harte, as if he were a numerous audience. If there is any 
particular consonant which you have a difficulty in articu- 
lating, as I think you had with the B, utter it millions and 
millions of times, till you have uttered it right. Never 
speak quick, till yon have first learned to speak well. In 
short, lay aside every book and every thought, that does not 
directly tend to this great object, absolutely decisive of your 
future fortune and figure. 

The next thing necessary in your destination is, writing 
correctly, elegantly, and in a good hand too ; in which three 
particulars, I am sorry to tell you that you hitherto fail. 
Your hand-writing is a very bad one, and would make a 
scurvy figure in an office-book of letters, or even in a lady's 
pocket-book. But that fault is easily cured by care, since 
every man who has the use of his eyes and of his right hand 
can write whatever hand he pleases. 

As to the correctness and elegancy of your writing, atten- 
tion to grammar does the one, and to the best authors the 
other. In your letter to me of the 27th June, N". S., you 
omitted the date of the place, so that I only conjectured 
from the contents that you were at Rome. 

Thus I have, with the truth and freedom of the tenderest 
affection, told you all your defects, at least all that I know 
or have heard of. Thank God they are all very curable, 
they must be cured, and I am sure you will cure them. 
That once done, nothing remains for you to acquire, or for 
me to wish you, but the turn, the manners, the address, and 
the graces of the polite world ; which experience, observation, 
and good company will insensibly give you. Few people at 
your age have read, seen, and known so much as you have, 
and consequently few are so near as yourself to what I call 
perfection, by which I only mean being very near as well as 
the best. Far, therefore, from being discouraged by what 



I 22 U >i:i> CHE8TERF1 ELD 8 LETTER8. 

you Btill want. wli;ii you already have should encourage you 
to attemptj and convince you thai by attempting you will 
inevitably obtain it. The difficulties which you have sur- 
mounted wore much greater than any you have now to 

encounter. Till very lately your way has been only through 

thorns and briers; the trw that now remain are mixed with 
roses. Pleasure is now the principal remaining pari of your 
education. It will soften and polish your manners; it will 

make you pursue and at last overtake the Graces. Pleasure 

is necessarily reciprocal: no one feels who does not at the 

same time give it. To be pleased, one must please. What 
pleases you in others, will in general please them in you. 
Tans is indisputably the seat of the Graces ; they will ev< n 
court you, if you are not too coy. Frequent and observe 
the best companies there, and you will soon he naturalized 
among them ; you will soon find how particularly attentive 
they are to the correctness and elegancy of their language, 
and to the graces of their enunciation; they would even 
call the understanding of a man in question, who should 
neglect or not know the infinite advantages arising from 
them. . . , Adieu. 



LETTEB XX XIX. 

GOOD PENMANSHIP. FORMING ACQUAINTANCES. 

London. January 28, 0. B. 1751. 

Mv Deab Friend, 
A bill for ninety pounds sterling was brought me the 

other day. said to he drawn upon me by you; I scrupled 
paying it at first, not upon account of the sum, but 
because you had sent me no letter of advice, which is 
always done in those transactions; and still more, because 1 
did not perceive that you had signed it. The person who 
presented it desired me to look again, and that I should 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 123 

discover your name at the bottom; accordingly I looked 
again, and with the help of my magnifying glass did per- 
ceive that what I had first taken only for somebody's mark 
was, in truth, your name, written in the worst and smallest 
hand I ever saw in my life. I cannot write quite so ill, 

but it was something like this, pj£%>/j?/> •J&&J^A*y>ts€s. 

However, I paid it at a venture; though I would almost 
rather lose the money, than that such a signature should be 
yours. All gentlemen, and all men of business, write their 
names always in the same way, that their signature may 
be so well known as not to be easily counterfeited ; and 
they generally sign in rather a larger character than their 
common hand; whereas your name was in a less, and a 
worse, than your common writing. This suggested to me 
the various accidents which may very probably happen to 
you, while you write so ill. For instance; if you were to 
write in such a character to the secretary's office, your 
letter would immediately be sent to the decipherer, as 
containing matters of the utmost secrecy, not fit to be 
trusted to the common character. If you were to write 
so to an antiquarian, he (knowing you to be a man of 
learning) would certainly try it by the Eunic, Celtic, or 
Sclavonian alphabet, never suspecting it to be a modern 
character. ... I have often told you that every man who 
has the use of his eyes and of his hand can write whatever 
hand he pleases ; and it is plain that you can, since you 
write both the Greek and German characters, which you 
never learned of a writing-master, extremely well, though 
your common hand, which you learned of a master, is an 
exceeding bad and illiberal one, equally unfit for business 
or common use. I do not desire that you should write the 
labored, stiff character of a writing-master : a man of busi- 
ness must write quick and well, and that depends singly 
upon use. I would therefore advise you to get some very 



124 LORD CHESTERFIELDS LETTERS. 

good writing-master at Paris, and apply to it for a month 
only, which will be sufficient; for, upon my word, the writ- 
ing of a genteel plain hand of business is of much more 
importance than you think. You will .say. it may be, that 
when von write so very ill, it is because you are in a hurry : 
t<» w Inch I answer, Why are you ever in a hurry ? a man of 

Bense may be in haste, hut can never he in a hurry, because he 
knows, that whatever he does in a hurry lie must necessarily 
do very ill. He may be in haste to dispatch an affair, but 
he will take care not, to let that haMe hinder his doing 
it well. Little minds are in a hurry, when the object 
proves (as it commonly does) too big for them; they run, 
they hare, they puzzle, confound, and perplex themsc! 
they want to do everything at once, and never do it at 
all. But a man of sense takes the time necessary for 
doing the thing he is about, well; and his haste to dis- 
patch a business, only appears by the continuity of his 
application to it: he pursues it with a cool steadiness, 
and finishes it before he begins any other. I own your 
time is much taken up, and you have a great many 
different things to do; but remember thai you had much 
better do half of them well, and leave the other half 
undone, than do them all indifferently. . . . Consider, 
that if your very bad writing could furnish me with 
matter of ridicule, what will it nol do to others, who do 
not view you in that partial light that 1 do. There was 
a Pope. I think it was Tope Chigi, who was justly ridiculed 
for his attention to little things, and his inability in great 
ones; and therefore called maximus in minimis, and 
mi ul inns in maximis} Why ? Because he attended to 
little things, when he had great ones to do. At this 
particular period of your life, and at the place you are 
now in, you have only little things to do: and you should 
make it habitual to you to do them well, that they may 
1 Very great In trifles. - Verj littl«- in very great thi 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 125 

require no attention from you when you have, as I hope 
you will have, greater things to mind. Make a good 
handwriting familiar to you now, that you may hereafter 
have nothing but your matter to think of, when you 
have occasion to write to kings and ministers. Dance, 
dress, present yourself habitually well now, that you may 
have none of those little things to think of hereafter, and 
which will be all necessary to be done well occasionally, 
when you will have greater things to do. 

As I am eternally thinking of everything that can be 
relative to you, one thing has occurred to me, which I 
think necessary to mention, in order to prevent the diffi- 
culties which it might otherwise lay you under : it is this ; 
as you get more acquaintances at Paris, it will be impossible 
for you to frequent your first acquaintances so much as you 
did, while you had no others. As, for example, at your 
first debut, I suppose, you were chiefly at Madame Mon- 
conseil's, 1 Lady Hervey's, 1 and Madame du Boccage's. Now 
that you have got so many other houses, you cannot be 
at theirs so often as you used ; but pray take care not to 
give them the least reason to think that you neglect or 
despise them for the sake of new and more dignified and 
shining acquaintances ; which would be ungrateful and im- 
prudent on your part, and never forgiven on theirs. Call 
upon them often, though you do not stay with them so long 
as formerly ; tell them that you are sorry you are obliged 
to go away, but that you have such and such engagements, 
with which good breeding obliges you to comply ; and in- 
sinuate that you would rather stay with them. In short, 
take care to make as many personal friends, and as few 
personal enemies, as possible. I do not mean, by personal 
friends, intimate and confidential friends, of which no man 
can hope to have half-a-dozen in the whole course of his 
life, but I mean friends in the common acceptation of the 
1 Mr. Stanhope's friends at Paris. 



7 li* > LORD OHESTBBFIBLD'8 LETTERS, 

word, that is, people who speak well of you, and who would 
rather do you good than harm, consistently with their own 
interest, and no Further. Upon the whole, I recommend 
to yon again and again les Ghr&ces. Adorned by them, you 
may, m a manner, do what you please; it will be approved 
of: without them, your besi qualities will lose hall' their 
efficacy. Endeavor to be fashionable among the French, 
which will soon make you fashionable here. Monsieur de 
Matignon already calls you le petti Francois. It you can 
gel that name generally at Paris, it will put you d l<< mode. 
Adieu, my dear child. 

LETTER XL. 

A QUOTATION AND AN EXAMPLE. 

Lomm)n\ Feb. ii8. o. S. 1751. 
My Dear Friend, 

This epigram in Martial, 1 

•■ Xon aino te, Sabidi, ncc possum dicere quare. 
Hoc tantum possum dicere, hod amo te ; M - 

has puzzled a great many people; who cannot conceive how- 
it is possible not to love anybody, and yet not to know the 
reason why. I think I conceive Martial's meaning very 
(dearly, though the nature of epigram, which is to be short, 
would not allow him to explain it more fully; and I take it 
to be tliis: Sabidis y you are a very worthy, deserving man ; 
you hurra thousand good qualities, you haw a great deal of 
learning : T esteem, I respect, but for the soul of me T cannot 
love, you, though I cannot particularly say why. You are not 

1 Unman poet : author of fourteen honks of epigrams (43-104 L.D. ). 

- ■• I do not love thee, Dr. Fell; 
The reason why. I cannot tell ; 
But this I'm sure I know full well. 
I do not lore thee, Dr. Fell.*'— Anon, 






LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 127 

amiable ; you have not those engaging manners, those pleasing 
attentions, those graces, and that address, ivhich are absolutely 
necessary to please, though impossible to define. I cannot say 
it is this or that particular thing that hinders me from 
loving you, it is the whole together ; and upon the ivhole you 
are not agreeable. How often have I, in the course of my 
life, found myself in this situation, with regard to many 
of my acquaintance, whom I have honored and respected, 
without being able to love ! I did not know why, because, 
when one is young, one does not take the trouble, nor 
allow one's self the time, to analyze one's sentiments, and 
to trace them up to their source. But subsequent observa- 
tion and reflection have taught me why. — There is a man, 1 
whose moral character, deep learning, and superior parts, 
I acknowledge, admire, and respect; but whom it is so 
impossible for me to love, that I am almost in a fever 
whenever I am in his company. His figure (without being 
deformed) seems made to disgrace or ridicule the common 
structure of the human body. His legs and arms are never 
in the position which, according to the situation of his 
body, they ought to be in ; but constantly employed in 
committing acts of hostility upon the Graces. He throws 
anywhere, but down his throat, whatever he means to 
drink ; and only mangles what he means to carve. Inat- 
tentive to all the regards of social life, he mistimes or 
misplaces everything. He disputes with heat, and indis- 
criminately ; mindless of the rank, character, and situation 
of those with whom he disputes, absolutely ignorant of the 
several gradations of familiarity or respect, he is exactly 
the same to his superiors, his equals, and his inferiors ; and 
therefore, by a necessary consequence, absurd to two of the 
three. Is it possible to love such a man ? ISTo. The ut- 
most I can do for him, is to consider him a respectable 
Hottentot. 1 
1 Allusion to Dr. Samuel Johnson. 2 A South African heathen race. 



128 lord chesterfield's letters. 

I remember, thai when I came From Cambridge, I had 
acquired, among the pedants of thai illiberal seminary, a 
Baueiness of literature^ a turn to satire and contempt, and a 
Btrong tendency to argumentation and contradiction. Bui 
1 had been bu1 a very Little while in the world, before I 
found thai this would by no means dcfj and I immediately 
adopted the opposite character: I concealed what Learning 
I had; 1 applauded often, without approving ; and I yielded 
commonly, without conviction. Suaviter in modo was my 
Law and my Prophets; and if I pleased (between you and 

me) it was much more owing to that than to any superior 
knowledge or merit of my own. .1 propos, the word pleasing 
puts one always in mind of Lady Hervey: 1 pray tell her 
that 1 declare her responsible to me tor your pleasing; that 
I consider her as a pleasing Palstaff, who not only pleases 
herself, but is the cause of pleasing in others: that I know 
she can make anything of anybody ; and that, as your gov- 
erness, if she does not make you please, it must be only 
because she will not, and not because she cannot. I hope 
you are, du hois dont on en fait 2 ; and if so, she is so good a 
sculptor, that I am sure she can give you whatever form 
she pleases. A versatility of manners is as necessary in 
social, as a versatility of parts is in political, life. One 
must often yield in order to prevail; one must humble one's 
self to be exalted; one must, like St. Paul, become all 
things to all men to gain some; and (by the way) men are 
taken by the same means, mutatis mutandis? that women 
are gained; by gentleness, insinuation, and submission. . . . 
I have of late been a sort of an astronome malgri moi, 4 by 
bringing last Monday, into the House of Lords, a lull lor 
reforming our present calendar, and taking the New Style. 
Upon which occasion I was obliged to talk some astroiiomi- 

1 Wife of Baron Hervej . an English politician. 
- The staff <>f which one makes them. 
• The oecessarj changes being made. 
4 An asl ronomer in spite of me. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 129 

cal jargon, of which I did not understand one word, but got 
it by heart, and spoke it by rote from a master. I wished 
that I had known a little more of it myself ; and so much I 
would have you know. But the great and necessary knowl- 
edge of all is, to know yourself and others : this knowledge 
requires great attention and long experience ; exert the 
former, and may you have the latter ! Adieu. 

P.S. — I have this moment received your letters of the 
27th February, and the 2nd March, K S. The seal shall 
be done as soon as possible. I am glad that you are em- 
ployed in Lord Albemarle's bureau; it will teach you, at 
least, the mechanical part of that business, such as folding, 
entering, and docketing letters ; for you must not imagine 
that you are let into the fin fin l of the correspondence, nor 
indeed is it fit that you should at your age. However, use 
yourself to secrecy as to the letters you either read or write, 
that in time you may be trusted with secret, very secret, sepa- 
rate, apart, etc. I am sorry that this business interferes with 
your riding ; I hope it is but seldom ; but I insist upon its 
not interfering with your dancing-master, who is at this time 
the most useful and necessary of all the masters you have 
or can have. 

LETTER XLI. 

REFORMING THE CALENDAR. 

London, March 18, O. S. 1751. 
My Dear Friend, 

I acquainted you in a former letter, that I had brought 
a bill into the House of Lords for correcting and reforming 
our present calendar, which is the Julian ; and for adopting 
the Gregorian. I will now give you a more particular ac- 
count of that affair; from which reflections will naturally 
occur to you, that I hope may be useful, and which I fear 

1 The very end. 



180 lord chesterfield's letters. 

you have not made. It was notorious that the Julian calen- 
dar was erroneous, and had overcharged the solar year with 
eleven days. Pope Gregory the L3th corrected this error; 
his reformed calendar was immediately received by all the 
Catholic Powers of Europe, and afterwards adopted bj all 

tin 4 Protestant ones, except. Kus.Ma, Sweden, and England. 

it was not, in my opinion, very honorable for England to 
remain in a gross and avowed error, especially in such com- 
pany ; the Lnconveniency of it was likewise fell by all those 

who had foreign correspondences, whether political or mer- 
cantile. I determined, therefore, to attempt the reforma- 
tion; I consulted the best lawyers, and the most skilful 
astronomers, and we cooked up a bill for that pun 
lhit then my difficulty began : I was to bring in this bill, 
which was necessarily composed of law jargon and astro- 
nomical calculations, to both which I am an utter Btranger. 
However, it was absolutely necessan to make the Souse of 
bonis think that 1 knew something of the matter ; and also 
to make them believe that they knew something of it them- 
selves, which they do not. For my own part, L could just 
as soon have talked Celtic 1 or Sclavonian 1 to them, as 
astronomy, and they would have understood me full as well : 
so I resolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to 
please instead of informing them. I gave them, therefore, 
only an historical account of calendars, from the Egyptian 
down to the Gregorian, amusing them now and then with 
little episodes ; but I was particularly attentive to the choice 
of my words, to the harmony and roundness of my periods, 
to my elocution, to my action. This succeeded, and ever 

will succeed; they thought I informed, because I pleased, 

1 The peoples once occupying Prance, Spain, northern Italy, western 
Germany and the British Isles, whose languages resembled those of Wales, 
Scotland, and Ireland. 

- \ race ol peoples in two divisions, one comprising the Russians, Bul- 
ois, etc., the other the Poles, Bohemians, Moravians, etc. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 131 

them : and many of them said that I had made the whole 
very clear to them ; when, God knows, I had not even 
attempted it. Lord Macclesfield, who had the greatest 
share in forming the bill, and who is one of the greatest 
mathematicians and astronomers in Europe, spoke after- 
wards with infinite knowledge, and all the clearness that so 
intricate a matter would admit of ; but as his words, his 
periods, and his utterance were not near so good as mine, 
the preference was most unanimously, though most unjustly, 
given to me. This will ever be the case ; every numerous 
assembly is mob, let the individuals who compose it be what 
they will. Mere reason and good sense is never to be talked 
to a mob : their passions, their sentiments, their senses, and 
their seeming interests, are alone to be applied to. Under- 
standing they have collectively none ; but they have ears 
and eyes, which must be flattered and seduced; and this 
can only be done by eloquence, tuneful periods, graceful 
action, and all the various parts of oratory. 

When you come into the House of Commons, if you 
imagine that speaking plain and unadorned sense and reason 
will do your business, you will find yourself most grossly 
mistaken. As a speaker, you will be ranked only according 
to your eloquence, and by no means according to your 
matter ; everybody knows the matter almost alike, but few 
can adorn it. I was early convinced of the importance and 
powers of eloquence; and from that moment I applied my- 
self to it. I resolved not to utter one word, even in common 
conversation, that should not be the most expressive, and 
the most elegant that the language could supply me with 
for that purpose ; by which means I have acquired such a 
certain degree of habitual eloquence, that I must now really 
take some pains, if I would express myself very inelegantly. 
I want to inculcate this known truth into you, which you 
seem by no means to be convinced of yet, That ornaments 
are at present your only objects. Your sole business now 



132 LORD chesterfield's letters. 

is to Bhine, doI to weigh. Weigh! without lustre is lead. 
You bad better talk trifles elegantly, to the most trifling 

woman, than coarse, ineleganl sense to the most solid man ; 

you had better return a dropped Fan genteelly, than give a 

thousand pounds awkwardly: and you had better refuse a 

Favor gracefully, than grant it clumsily. Manner is all, in 
everything: it is by manner only that you can please, and 
consequently rise. All your Greek will never advance 
from Secretary to Envoy, or From Envoy to Ambassador; 

hut your address, your manner, your air. if good, very prob- 
ably may. Marcel can be of much more use to you than 
Aristotle. 1 I would, upon my word, much rather that you 
had Lord Bolingbroke's ■ style and eloquence, in speaking 
and writing, than all the learning of the Academy of Sci- 
ences, the Royal Society, and the two Universities, united. 
Saving mentioned Lord Bolingbroke's .style, which is, 
undoubtedly, infinitely superior to anybody's, I would have 
you read his works, which you have, over and over again, 
with particular attention to his style. Transcribe, imitate, 
emulate it, if possible : that would be of real use to you In 
the House of Commons, in negotiations, in conversation; 
with that, you may justly hope to please, to persuade, to 
.seduce, to impose; and you will fail in those articles, in 
proportion as you fall short of it. Upon the whole, lay 
aside, during your year's residence at Paris, all thoughts of 
all that dull fellows call solid, and exert your utmost care 
to acquire what people of fashion call shining. . . . Adieu 
my dear child. 

i Greatest of Greek philosophers (384-322 B.C.). 

* St. John Benry Viscount Bolingbroke (1678-1751). English statesman 

;m<l writer on political BUbJ0Ct8. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 133 

LETTER XLIL 

APPEARANCE AND REALITY. 

London, May 6, 0. S. 1751. 
My Dear Friend, 

The best authors are always the severest critics of their 
own works ; they revise, correct, tile, and polish them, till 
they think they have brought them to perfection. Consider- 
ing you as my work, I do not look upon myself as a bad 
author, and am therefore a severe critic. I examine narrowly 
into the least inaccuracy or inelegancy, in order to correct, 
not to expose, them, and that the work may be perfect at 
last. You are, I know, exceedingly improved in your air, 
address, and manners, since you have been at Paris ; but 
still there is, I believe, room for further improvement, be- 
fore you come to that perfection which I have set my heart 
upon seeing you arrive at : and till that moment I must 
continue filing and polishing. . . . Mankind, as I have 
often told you, is more governed by appearances than by 
realities : and, with regard to opinion, one had better be 
really rough and hard, with the appearance of gentleness 
and softness, than just the reverse. Few people have pene- 
tration enough to discover, attention enough to observe, or 
even concern enough to examine, beyond the exterior ; they 
take their notions from the surface, and go no deeper ; they 
commend, as the gentlest and best-natured man in the 
world, that man who has the most engaging exterior manner, 
though possibly they have been but once in his company. 
An air, a tone of voice, a composure of countenance to mild- 
ness and softness, which are all easily acquired, do the 
business ; and without further examination, and possibly 
with the contrary qualities, that man is reckoned the gen- 
tlest, the modestest, and the best-natured man alive. Happy 
the man who, with a certain fund of parts and knowledge, 



134 LORD CHESTERF1 ELD'S LET! BBS. 

acquainted with the world early enough to make it his 
bubble, al an age when most people arc the bubbles of the 

world! for that is the common case of youth. They grow 
r, when it is too late: and, ashamed and vexed at having 
been bubbles so long, too often turn knaves at last. Do not 
therefore trusl to appearances and outside yourself, bul paj 
other people with them ; because you may be Bure that nine 
in ten of mankind do, and ever will, trust to them. This 
is by no means a criminal or blamable simulation, if not 
iiM'd with an ill intention. 1 am by no means blamable in 
desiring to have other people's good word, good will, and 
affection, if 1 do not. mean to abuse them. Sour heart. I 
know, is good, your sense is sound, and your knowl* 
extensive. What then remains tor von to do*/ Nothing, but 
to adorn those fundamental qualifications with such enj 
ing and captivating manners, Boftness, and gentleness, as 
will endear yon to those who are able to judge of your real 
merit, and which always stand in the stead of merit with 
those who are not. I do not mean by this to recommend to 
yon lejqde doucereux* the insipid Boftness of a gentle fool: 

no. assert your own opinion, Oppose other people's when 
wrong; hut let your manner, your air, your terms, and your 
tone of voice, he solt and gentle, and that easily and nat- 
urally, not affectedly. Use palliatives when yon contradict; 
such as, / may be mistaken, I am u<>t sure, bvi I believe, I 
I should rather think, etc. Finish any argument or dispute 
with some little good-humored pleasantry, to show that 

you are neither hint yourself, nor meant to hurt your ai 

onist; for an argument, kept up a good while, often occa- 
sions a temporary alienation on each side. . . . Adieu. 

1 Silly affectation. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 135 

LETTER XLIIL 

EARLY LIFE. 

London, June 24, 0. S. 1751. 
My Dear Friend, 

Air, address, manners, and graces are of such infinite 
advantage to whoever has them, and so peculiarly and 
essentially necessary for you, that now, as the time of our 
meeting draws near, I tremble for fear I should not find 
you possessed of them ; and, to tell you the truth, I doubt 
you are not yet sufficiently convinced of their importance. 

There is, for instance, your intimate friend Mr. H , 

who, with great merit, deep knowledge, and a thousand 
good qualities, will never make a figure in the world while 
he lives. Why ? Merely for want of those external and 
showish accomplishments, which he began the world too 
late to acquire ; and which, with his studious and philo- 
sophical turn, I believe he thinks are not worth his atten- 
tion. He may, very probably, make a figure in the republic 
of letters ; but he had ten thousand times better make a 
figure as a man of the world and of business in the republic 
of the United Provinces, 1 which, take my word for it, he 
never will. 

As I open myself, without the least reserve, whenever I 
think that my doing so can be of any use to you, I will give 
you a short account of myself when I first came into the 
world, which was at the age you are of now, so that (by the 
way) you have got the start of me in that important article 
by two or three years at least. At nineteen, I left the 
university of Cambridge, where I was an absolute pedant : 
when I talked my best, I quoted Horace ; when I aimed at 

1 The seven provinces of Holland, which in 1579 formed the Union of 
Utrecht and laid the foundation of the republic of the Netherlands. 



1 36 U >RD CHESTER I I ELDS LETTERS. 

being facetious, I quoted Martial; and when I had a mind 
to 1"' a fine gentleman, I talked Ovid. 1 I was convinced 
thai Done but the ancients had common sense; that the 
('lassies contained everything thai wras either necessary, 
useful, or ornamental to men; and 1 was nol without 
thoughts of wearing the toga virilis 1 of the Romans, in- 
stead of the vulgar and illiberal dress of the moderns. With 
these excellent notions, I wenl first to the Hague, where, by 
the help of Beveral letters of recommendation, I was Boon 
introduced into all the besl company; and where I very 
soon discovered that I was totally mistaken in almost every 
one notion 1 had entertained. Fortunately, I had a strong 
desire to please (the mixed result of good nature and a van- 
ity by no means blamable), and was Bensible that I had 
nothing but the desire. I therefore resolved, if possible, to 
acquire the means, too. I studied attentively and minutely 
the dress, the air. the manner, the address, and the turn of 
conversation of all those whom I found to be the people in 
fashion, and most generally allowed to please. I imitated 
them as well as I could; if I heard that one man was 
reckoned remarkably genteel, I carefully watched his di 
motions, and attitudes, and formed my own upon them. 
When I heard of another, whose conversation was agree- 
able and engaging, I listened and attended to the turn of it. 
I addressed myself, though de tr&s-mauvaise gr&a v* to all the 
most Fashionable fine ladies; confessed, and laughed with 
them at my own awkwardness and rawness, recommending 
myself as an object for them to try their skill in forming. 
By these means, and with a passionate desire «»f pleasing 
everybody, I came by degrees t<> | >me; and. I can 

assure you. that what little figure 1 have made in the world, 
has been much more owing to that passionate de-ire I had 

i Roman poet, one <>f the Leading writers of tin- Augustine age (43 B.C. 
-l- i 

-The robe of manhood. 'With very bad grace. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 137 

of pleasing universally than to any intrinsic merit or sound 
knowledge I might ever have been master of. My passion 
for pleasing was so strong (and I am very glad it was so) 
that I own to you fairly, I wished to make every woman I 
saw in love with me, and every man I met with admire me. 
Without this passion for the object, I should never have 
been so attentive to the means ; and I own I cannot con- 
ceive how it is possible for any man of good nature and good 
sense to be without this passion. Does not good nature in- 
cline us to please all those we converse with, of whatever 
rank or station they may be ? And does not good sense and 
common observation show of what infinite use it is to please ? 
Oh ! but one may please by the good qualities of the heart, 
and the knowledge of the head, without that fashionable 
air, address, and manner, which is mere tinsel. I deny it. 
A man may be esteemed and respected, but I defy him to 
please without them. Moreover, at your age, I would not 
have contented myself with barely pleasing ; I wanted to 
shine, and to distinguish myself in the world as a man of 
fashion and gallantry, as well as business. And that ambi- 
tion or vanity, call it what you please, was a right one ; it 
hurt nobody, and made me exert whatever talents I had. It 
is the spring of a thousand right and good things. 

I was talking you over the other day with one very much 
your friend, and who had often been with you, both at Paris 
and in Italy. Among the innumerable questions, which you 
may be sure I asked him concerning you, I happened to 
mention your dress (for, to say the truth, it was the only 
thing of which I thought him a competent judge), upon 
which he said that you dressed tolerably well at Paris ; but 
that in Italy you dressed so ill, that he used to joke with 
you upon it, and even to tear your clothes. Now, I must 
tell you, that at your age it is as ridiculous not to be very 
well dressed, as at my age it would be if I were to wear a 
white feather and red-heeled shoes. Dress is one of the 



188 LORD CH BSTBBFIBLD'S LETTERS. 

various ingredients thai contribute to the arl of pleasing; 
it pleases the eyes at least, and more especiall} of women. 
Address yourself to the Benses, if you would please; dazzle 
the eyes, soothe and flatter the ears, of mankind; engage 
their hearty and lei their reason do its worst againsl you. 
Suaviter in modo is the great secret. Whenever you find 
yoursell engaged insensibly in favor of anybody, of no 
superior merits nor distinguished talents, examine, and see 

what it is that has made those impressions upon you: you 

will find it to be thai douceur, 1 that gentleness of manners, 

that air and address, which I have so often recomm ended 
to you ; and from theuee draw this obvious conclusion, that 
what pleases you in them will please others in yon; for we 
are all made of the same clay, though some of the lumps 
are a little finer, and some a little coarser; but, in general, 
the surest way to judge of others is to examine and analyze 

one's self thoroughly. When we meet I will assist you in 
that analysis, in which every man wants some assistance 
against Ins own self-love. Adieu. 



LETTER XLIV. 

RULES FOR LETTERS OF BUSINESS. 

London. Dec. 10, 0. 8. 1761. 

M* Deab Friend, 

Yd are now entered upon a scene of business, where I 

hope you will one day make a figure. Use does a great 

deal, hut care and attention must he joined to it. The first 

thin,-- accessary in writing letters of business is extreme 
clearness and perspicuity; every paragraph should tx 

clear, and unambiguous, that the dullest fellow in tin 1 world 

may not he able to mistake n, nor obliged to read it twice 

1 Sweetness. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 139 

in order to understand it. This necessary clearness implies 
a correctness, without excluding an elegancy of style. 
Tropes, figures, antitheses, epigrams, etc., wo aid be as mis- 
placed, and as impertinent, in letters of business, as they 
are sometimes (if judiciously used) proper and pleasing in 
familiar letters, upon common and trite subjects. In busi- 
ness, an elegant simplicity, the result of care not of labor, is 
required. Business must be well, not affectedly, dressed, 
but by no means negligently. Let your first attention be to 
clearness, and read every paragraph after you have written 
it, in the critical view of discovering whether it is possible 
that any one man can mistake the true sense of it ; and cor- 
rect it accordingly. 

Our pronouns and relatives often create obscurity or am- 
biguity ; be therefore exceedingly attentive to them, and 
take care to mark out with precision their particular rela- 
tions. For example ; Mr. Johnson acquainted me, that he 
had seen Mr. Smith, who had promised him to speak to 
Mr. Clarke, to return him (Mr. Johnson) those papers, which 
he (Mr. Smith) had left some time ago with him (Mr. 
Clarke) : it is better to repeat a name, though unnecessarily, 
ten times, than to have the person mistaken once. Who, 
you know, is singly relative to persons, and cannot be ap- 
plied to things ; which, and that, are chiefly relative to 
things, but not absolutely exclusive of persons ; for one may 
say, the man that robbed or killed such-a-one ; but it is much 
better to say, the man who robbed or killed. One never says 
the man or the woman which. Which and that, though 
chiefly relative to things, cannot be always used indiffer- 
ently as to things ; and the €vcf>ovta must sometimes deter- 
mine their place. For instance; The letter which I received 
from you, which you referred to in your last, which came by 
Lord Albemarle's messenger, and which I showed to such-a- 
one ; I would change it thus — The letter that I received 
from you, which you referred to in your last, that came by 



140 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

Lord Albemarle's messenger; and which I Bhowed to such-a- 
cme. 

Business does do! exclude (as possibly von wish it did) 
the usual terms of politeness and good breeding; but, on 
i In- contrary, strictly requires them: such as, / have die 
honor to acquaint your Lordship; Permit m*' to assure you : 
If 1 may be (Mowed to give my opinion^ etc. For the Minister 
abroad, who writes to the Minister ai borne, writes to his 
Buperior; possibly to his patron, or at least to one who he 
desires should be so. 

Letters of business will not only admit of, but be the bet- 
ter for, certain grasses: hut then they must be scattered with 
a sparing and a skilful hand: they must tit their place ex- 
actly. They must decently adorn without encumbering, and 

modest 1\ shine without glaring. But as this IS the utmost 

degree of perfection in letters of business, I would not 
advise you to attempt those embellishments till you have 
firsl laid your foundation well. 

Cardinal d'Ossat's letters are the true letters of busint 
those of Monsieur dWvaux are excellent; Sir William 
Temple's are very pleasing, but, I fear, too affected. Care- 
fully avoid all Greek or Latin quotations: and bring m> 
precedents from the mvtuous Spartans, the polite Athenians^ 
anil the brave Romans. Leave all that to futile pedants. 
No flourishes, no declamation. Bu1 (I repeal it again) there 
is an elegant simplicity and dignity of style absolutely neo- 
essarj for good letters of business ; attend to that carefully. 
Let your periods be harmonious, without seeming to be 
labored: and let them not he too Ion-, tor that always occa- 
sions a degree of obscurity. I should not mention correct 
orthography, but that you verj often fail in that particular, 
which will being ridicule upon you; tor no man is allowed 
to spell ill. I wish, too, that your band-writing were much 
better: and 1 cannot conceive wh\ it is not, since every man 
may certainly write whatever hand he pleases. Neatness in 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 141 

folding up, sealing, and directing your packets, is by no 
means to be neglected, though I dare say you think it is. 
But there is something in the exterior, even of a packet, 
that may please or displease ; and consequently worth some 
attention. 

You say that your time is very well employed, and so it 
is, though as yet only in the outlines and first routine of 
business. They are previously necessary to be known ; 
they smooth the way for parts and dexterity. Business 
requires no conjuration nor supernatural talents, as people 
unacquainted with it are apt to think. Method, diligence, 
and discretion will carry a man of good strong common 
sense much higher than the finest parts without them can 
do. Par negotiis, neque supra, 1 is the true character of a 
man of business : but then it implies ready attention, and 
no absences; and a flexibility and versatility of attention 
from one object to another, without being engrossed by any 
one. 

Be upon your guard against the pedantry and affectation 
of business, which young people are apt to fall into from the 
pride of being concerned in it young. They look thought- 
ful, complain of the weight of business, throw out mysteri- 
ous hints, and seem big with secrets which they do not know. 
Do you, on the contrary, never talk of business, but to those 
with whom you are to transact it ; and learn to seem vacuus, 2 
and idle, when you have the most business. Of all things 
the volto sciolto, and the pensieri stretti, are necessary. Adieu. 

1 Equal to his business and not above it. 

2 Unoccupied. 



U >i;i> CHESTER FIELD s LETTERS. 



LETTEB XLV. 

EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

London, March 6, 0. s. 1762. 
Mi Deab Friend, 

\- I have received ao letter from you by the usual post, 
I am uneasy upon account of your health; for, had you 
been well, I am Bure you would have written, according to 
your engagement, and my requisition. You have not the 
leasl notion of any care of your health: but, though I 
would not have you be a valetudinarian, I must tell you, 
that the best and most robust health requires some degree 
of attention to preserve. Young fellows, thinking they 
have so mueh health and time before them, are very apt to 
neglect or lavish both, and beggar themselves before they 

are aware : whereas a prudent economy in both, would make 
them rich indeed; and so far from breaking in upon their 
pleasures, would improve and almost perpetuate them. Be 
you wiser; and, before it is too late, manage both with care 
and frugality; and lay out neither, but upon good interest 
and security. 

I will now confine myself to the employment of your 
time, which, though I have often touched upon formerly, is 
a xibject that, from its importance, will bear repetition. 
You have, it is true, a great deal of time before you; but, 
in this period of your life, one hour usefully employed may 
l»c worth more than four-aml-t wenty hereafter; a minute is 
precious to you now, whole days may possibly not 1». 
Eorty years hence. Whatever time you allow or can snatch 
I'd- serious reading <I say snatch, because company, and the 
knowledge «>f the world, is now your chief object), employ 
it m the reading of some one book, and that a good one, 
till you have finished it : and do not distract your mind 
with various matters at the same time. In this light I 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 143 

would recommend to you to read toute de suite l Grotius 2 de 
Jure Belli et Pads? translated by Barbeyrac, and Puffen- 
dorf 's 4 Jus Gentium? translated by the same hand. For 
accidental quarters of hours, read works of invention, wit, 
and humor, of the best, and not of trivial, authors, either 
ancient or modern. 

Whatever business you have, do it the first moment «you 
can ; never by halves, but finish it without interruption, if 
possible. Business must not be sauntered and trifled w T ith ; 
and you must not say to it, as Felix did to Paul, " at a 
more convenient season I will speak to thee." 6 The most 
convenient season for business is the first ; but study and 
business, in some measure, point out their own times to a 
man of sense ; time is much oftener squandered away in 
the wrong choice and improper methods of amusement and 
pleasures. 

Many people think that they are in pleasures, provided 
they are neither in study nor in business. Nothing like it ; 
they are doing nothing, and might just as well be asleep. 
They contract habitudes from laziness, and they only fre- 
quent those places where they are free from all restraints 
and attentions. Be upon your guard against this idle pro- 
fusion of time: and let every place you go to be either the 
scene of quick and lively pleasures, or the school of your 
improvements : let every company you go into, either gratify 
your senses, extend your knowledge, or refine your man- 
ners. Have some decent object of gallantry in view at 
some places ; frequent others, where people of wit and taste 
assemble ; get into others, where people of superior rank 

1 At once. 

2 Distinguished Dutch jurist, statesman, and theologian, founder of the 
science of international law (1583-1645). 

3 Concerning the right of war and peace. Grotius's greatest work. 

4 A noted German jurist, historian, publicist (1632-1694). His " Law 
of Nations," 5 here referred to was his chief work. 

6 Acts of the Apostles 24 : 25. 



Ill LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 

and dignity command reaped and attention from the rest 
of the comp&nj ; but pray frequent no neutral places, from 
mere idleness and indolence. Nothing forms a young man 
bo much as being used to keep respectable and Buperior 
company, where a constant regard and attention are w 
sary. It is tine this is a1 first a disagreeable state of 
restraint; but it soon grows habitual, and consequently 

easy; and you are amply paid for it. by the improvement 
you make, and the credit it gives JTOU. What you said 

some time ago was very true, concerning le Palais Royal; 1 

to one of your age the situation is disagreeable enough; 

you cannot expeel to be much taken notice of: bul all that 
time you can take notice of Others; observe their maimers. 
decipher their characters, and insensibly you will become 
one of the company. 

All this I went through myself, when I was of your a 
I have sat hours in company, without being taken the least 
notice of; but then I took notice of them, and learned, in 
i heir company, how to behave myself better in the next, till 
by degrees I became part of the best companies myself. 
But I took great care not to lavish away my time in those 
companies, where there were neither quick pleasures nor 

Useful improvements to be expected. 

Sloth, indolence, and moUesse* are pernicious and unbe- 
coming a young fellow; let them be your r€890Urce forty 

years hence at soonest. . . . Adieu. 

i A palace in Paris, built by Cardinal Richelieu (1629-1634), 
- Effeminacy, 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 145 



LETTER XLVI. 

THE WAYS OF SOCIETY. 

London, April 30, O. S. 1752. 
My Dear Friend, 

Avoir du monde 1 is, in my opinion, a very just and happy 
expression for having address, manners, and for knowing 
how to behave properly in all companies, and it implies 
very truly, that a man that has not these accomplishments 
is not of the world. Without them, the best parts are in- 
efficient, civility is absurd, and freedom offensive. A learned 
parson, rusting in his cell at Oxford or Cambridge, will 
reason admirably well upon the nature of man ; will pro- 
foundly analyze the head, the heart, the reason, the will, 
the passions, the senses, the sentiments, and all those sub- 
divisions of we know not what, and yet, unfortunately, he 
knows nothing of man, for he has not lived with him ; and 
is ignorant of all the various modes, habits, prejudices, and 
tastes, that always influence and often determine him. He 
views man as he does colors in Sir Isaac Newton's prism, 
where only the capital ones are seen, but an experienced 
dyer knows all their various shades and gradations, together 
with the result of their several mixtures. Few men are of 
one plain, decided color : most are mixed, shaded, and 
blended ; and vary as much, from different situations, as 
changeable silks do from different lights. The man qui a 
du monde 2 knows all this from his own experience and 
observation : the conceited, cloistered philosopher knows 
nothing of it from his own theory : his practice is absurd 
and improper, and he acts as awkwardly as a man would 
dance who had never seen others dance, nor learned of a 
dancing-master, but who had only studied the notes by 
which dances are now kicked down as well as tunes. Ob- 

1 To be accustomed to society. 2 Who knows the ways of society. 



146 lord chesterfield's letters. 

serve ami imitate, then, the address, the arts, and the man- 
nera of those qui ontdumonde 1 ; see by what methods they 
tirst make, and afterwards improve, impressions in their 
favor. Those impressions are mucb oftener owing to little 

causes than to intrinsic merit, which is less volatile, and 

has not so sudden an effect. Strong minds have undoubt- 
edly an ascendant over weak ones, as (iali^ai Marechale 
d'Ancre very justly observed, when, to the di8gra06 and 
reproach of those times, she was executed-' tor having 

governed .Mary of 5fedicis s by the arts of witchcraft ami 
magic Bui then ascendant is to he gained by degrees, and 

by those arts only which experience and the knowled- 
ge world teaches, for few are mean enough to be bullied, 
though most are weak enough to be bubbled. I have often 
seen people of superior, governed by people of much inferior 
parts, without knowing or even suspecting that they were 
so governed. This can only happen when those people of 
inferior parts have more worldly dexterity and experience 
than those they govern. They see the weak and unguarded 
part, and apply to it: they take it, and all the rest follows. 
Would you gain either men or women, and every man of 
sense desires to gain both, Ufaui d" mande. 4 You have had 
more opportunities than ever any man had, at your age, of 
acquiring ce monde; you have been in the best companies of 
most countries, at an age when others have hardly been in 
any company at all. You are master of all those langua 
which John Trott seldom speaks at all. and never well; con- 
sequently you need be a stranger nowhere. This is the way, 

and the only way , of having d" month-; but if you have it 
not, and have still any coarse rusticity about you. may one 
not apply to yOU the ritSticUS expectat 5 ot Horace"/ 

1 Who kn<>\\ ilir vrayfl of the world. 

- On tin' stli oi .Iul.\ . MIT. 

leen Consort of Henry iv .a France 1 1673 1642). 
• \ on must Dave tin* vrorld. fhe rustic waits. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 147 

This knowledge of the world teaches us more particularly 
two things, both which are of infinite consequence, and to 
neither of which nature inclines us : I mean, the command 
of our temper and of our countenance. A man who has 
no monde is inflamed with anger, or annihilated with shame, 
at every disagreeable incident : the one makes him act and 
talk like a mad man, the other makes him look like a fool. 
But a man who has du monde seems not to understand 
what he cannot or ought not to resent. If he makes a 
slip himself, he recovers it by his coolness, instead of 
plunging deeper by his confusion, like a stumbling horse. 
He is firm, but gentle ; and practises that most excellent 
maxim, suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. 1 The other is the 
volto sciolto e pensieri stretti. People unused to the world 
have babbling countenances ; and are unskilful enough to 
show what they have sense enough not to tell. In the 
course of the world, a man must very often put on an 
easy, frank countenance upon very disagreeable occasions ; 
he must seem pleased when he is very much otherwise ; 
he must be able to accost, and receive with smiles, those 
whom he would much rather meet with swords. In Courts 
he must not turn himself inside out. All this may, nay 
must, be done without falsehood and treachery: for it 
must go no farther than politeness and manners, and 
must stop short of assurances and professions of simulated 
friendship. Good manners, to those one does not love, 
are no more a breach of truth than " your humble servant " 
at the bottom of a challenge is; they are universally 
agreed upon, and understood, to be things of course. 
They are necessary guards of the decency and peace of 
society : they must only act defensively ; and then not 
with arms poisoned with perfidy. Truth, but not the 
whole truth, must be the invariable principle of every 
man, who hath either religion, honor, or prudence. 
1 Gentle in manner, resolute in deed. 



148 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LBTTBK8. 

Those who violate it may be cunning, but they are not 
able. Lies and perfidy are the refuge of fools and cowards. 

Adieu I 

1\S. — I in ust recommend to yon again, to take your 
leave of all your French acquaintance, in such a manner 
as may make them regret your departure, and wish to Bee 
and welcome yon at Paris again; where yon may possibly 

return before it is very long. This mU8t nut be done m 
a cold, civil manner, but with, at least. Beeming warmth, 
sentiment, and concern. Acknowledge the obligations you 

have to them, for the kindness they have shown you 
during your stay at Paris; assure them, that, wherever 
you are, you shall remember them with gratitude : wish 
for opportunities of giving them proofs of your plus tendre 
et respectueux souvenir ; l beg of them, in case your good 
tort une should carry you to any part of the world where 
yon could be of any the least use to them, that they would 
employ you without reserve. Say all this, and a great deal 
more, emphatically and pathetically ; for you know it vis 
meflere — . - This can do you no harm, it you never return 
to Paris; but if you do, as probably you may, it will be of 
infinite use to you. .Remember, too, not to omit going 
to every house where yon have ever been once, to take 
leave, and recommend yourself to their remembrance. 
The reputation which you leave at one place, where you 
have been, will circulate, and you will meet with it at 
twenty places, where you are to go. That is a labor never 

quite lost. . . . 

1 Most tender and respectful remembrance. 

- It you wish me to weep.— Horace, " Ars Poetica." 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 149 

LETTEK XLVIL 

RULES FOR FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

London, May 11, O. S. 1752. 
My Dear Friend, 

... I would by no means have anything, that is known to 
others, be totally unknown to you. It is a great advantage 
for any man to be able to talk or to hear, neither ignorantly 
nor absurdly, upon any subject ; for I have known people, 
who have not said one word, hear ignorantly and absurdly ; 
it has appeared in their inattentive and unmeaning faces. 

This, I think, is as little likely to happen to you, as to 
anybody of your age ; and if you will but add a versatility, 
and easy conformity of manners, I know no company in 
which you are likely to be de trop. 1 

This versatility is more particularly necessary for you 
at this time, now that you are going to so many different 
places ; for though the manners and customs of the several 
Courts of Germany are in general the same, yet every one 
has its particular characteristic ; some peculiarity or other 
which distinguishes it from the next. This you should 
carefully attend to, and immediately adopt. Nothing flat- 
ters people more, nor makes strangers so welcome, as such 
an occasional conformity. I do not mean by this, that you 
should mimic the air and stiffness of every awkward Ger- 
man Court ; no, by no means ; but I mean that you should 
only cheerfully comply and fall in with certain local habits, 
such as ceremonies, diet, turn of conversation, etc. People 
who are lately come from Paris, and who have been a good 
while there, are generally suspected, and especially in Ger- 
many, of having a degree of contempt for every other place. 
Take great care that nothing of this kind appear, at least 
outwardly, in your behavior : but commend whatever de- 

1 Too much. 



150 I-' >RD CHESTEKF1 BLD's LET N-:i:s. 

serves any degree oi commendation, without comparing il 
wit 1 1 what you may have left, much better, of the Bame 
kind at Taiis. .\>, for instance, the German kitchen 
without doubt, execrable, and the French delicious; how* 
never commend the French kitchen at a German table; but 
cat of what you can find tolerable there, and commend it, 
without comparing it to anything better. I have known 
many British Yahoos, 1 who, though while they were a1 Paris 
conformed to no one French custom, as soon as they u r,, t 
anywhere else, talked of nothing but what they did, saw, 
and ate at Paris. The Freedom <>f the French is not to be 
used indiscriminately at all the Courts in Germany, though 
their easiness may, and ought; bul that, too, at some places 
more than others. The courts of Mannheim - ami Bonn, 1 I 
take to be a little more unbarbarized than some others; 

that of Maienee, 1 an ecclesiastical one, as well as that of 

Treves "' (neither of which is more Frequented by foreigners), 

retains, 1 conceive, a great deal of the (Joth € and Vandal 9 
still. There, more reserve and ceremony are necessary ; 
and not a word of the French. At Berlin you cannot l>e 
too French. Hanover, 8 Brunswick, 8 Cassel,* etc., are of the 
mixed kind, un peu dterottis, /inn's pas am 

Another thing, winch I most earnestly recommend to you, 
not only in Germany, but in every part of the world, where 
you may ever be, is, not only real, but seeming attention, 

1 in "Gulliver's Travels," Swift gives this name to an Imaginary race 
• a' brates. 
- City oi Baden, commercial center of the Upper Rhine. 

German city, on the Rhine, fifteen miles southwest <>f I Cologne. 
1 sfayence Is a German city, capital of the Province <>f Khine-Il 
1 1 isse. Also spell Main/. 
* City in tin- Rhine Province, Prussia. 
\ Teutonic race dwelling In the region <>f the lower Danube, in the 
third century. 

\ race which first appeared in Southern Germany and in the first pan 
of the fifth century ravaged Spain. Prance, and Northern Africa. 
8 German cities. 
■ \ little polished, but not sufficiently so. 

i 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 151 

to whomever you speak to, or to whoever speaks to you. 
There is nothing so brutally shocking, nor so little forgiven, 
as a seeming inattention to the person who is speaking to 
you; and I have known many a man knocked down, for 
(in my opinion) a much slighter provocation, than that 
shocking inattention which I mean. I have seen many 
people, who while you are speaking to them, instead of 
looking at, and attending to, you, fix their eyes upon the 
ceiling, or some other part of the room, look out of the 
window, play with a dog, twirl their snuff-box. Nothing 
discovers a little, futile, frivolous mind more than this, and 
nothing is so offensively ill bred : it is an explicit declara- 
tion on your part, that every, the most trifling object, de- 
serves your attention more than all that can be said by the 
person who is speaking to you. Judge of the sentiments 
of hatred and resentment, which such treatment must excite, 
in every breast where any degree of self-love dwells; and 
I am sure, I never yet met with that breast where there 
was not a great deal. I repeat it again and again (for it is 
highly necessary for you to remember it), that sort of vanity 
and self-love is inseparable from human nature, whatever 
may be its rank or condition; even your footman will 
sooner forget and forgive a beating, than any manifest 
mark of slight and contempt. Be therefore, I beg of you, 
not only really, but seemingly and manifestly, attentive to 
whoever speaks to you ; nay more, take their tone, and tune 
yourself to their unison. Be serious with the serious, gay 
with the gay, and trifle with the triflers. In assuming these 
various shapes, endeavor to make each of them to seem to 
sit easy upon you, and even to appear to be your own nat- 
ural one. This is the true and useful versatility of which a 
thorough knowledge of the world at once teaches the utility, 
and the means of acquiring. 

I am very sure, at least I hope, that you will never make 
use of a silly expression, which is the favorite expression, 



I.)- LORD CUES i i:i;t I ELD 8 LETTERS. 

and the absurd excuse of all fools and blockheads; I cannot 
do mtch a thing: — a thing by no means eithei morally or 
physically impossible. I cannot attend long together to the 
.same thing, Bays one fool: that is, he is such a fool that he 

will not. I remember a very awkward fellow, who did not 

know what to do with his sword, and who always took it off 

before dinner, Baying, that he could not possibly dine with 

Ins sword on ; upon which I could not help telling him that 

I really believed he could, without any probable danger 

cither to himself or others. It is a shame and an absurdity, 
for any man to say. t hat 1km -an not do all t hose things which 
are commonly -done by all the rest of mankind. 

Another thing, that I must earnestly warn you against, is 
Laziness; by which more people have lost tin 1 fruit of their 
travels, than (perhaps) by any other thing. Pray be always 
m motion. Early in the morning go and see things; and 
tin 1 rest of the clay go and see people. If you stay but a 
week at a place, and that an insignificant one. see, however, 
all that is to be seen there; know as many people, ami 
into as many houses, as ever you can. 

I recommend to you likewise, though probably you have 
thought of it yourself, to carry in your pocket a map of 
Germany, in winch the post roads are marked; and also 
some short book of travels through Germany. The former 
will help to imprint in your memory situations and dis- 
tances; and the latter will point out many things for you to 
see, that might otherwise possibly escape you; and which. 

though they may in themselves be of little consequence, 

\<>u would regret not having seen, after having been at the 
places where they were. 

Thus warned and provided for your journey. ( fad speed 
you; Felix faustumque 8it I * Adieu. 

1 May ii !>•• auspicious an«l fortunate. From Cirrro's " I >»• Divinat ione." 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 153 

LETTER XL VIII. 

STUDY OF THE WORLD. 

London, May 31, O. S. 1752. 
My Dear Friend, 

The world is the book, and the only one to which, at 
present, I would have you apply yourself ; and the thorough 
knowledge of it will be of more use to you than all the books 
that ever were read. Lay aside the best book whenever you 
can go into the best company ; and depend upon it you 
change for the better. However, as the most tumultuous 
life, whether of business or pleasure, leaves some vacant 
moments every day, in which a book is the refuge of a 
rational being, I mean now to point out to you the method 
of employing those moments (which will and ought to be 
but few) in the most advantageous manner. Throw away 
none of your time upon those trivial, futile books, published 
by idle or necessitous authors, for the amusement of idle and 
ignorant readers : such sort of books swarm and buzz about 
one every day ; flap them away, they have no sting. Cerium 
jietejinem, 1 have some one object for those leisure moments, 
and pursue that object invariably till you have attained it ; 
and then take some other. For instance ; considering your 
destination, I would advise you to single out the most re- 
markable and interesting seras of modern history, and con- 
fine all your reading to that JElra. If you pitch upon the 
Treaty of Munster 2 (and that is the proper period to begin 
with, in the course which I am now recommending), do not 
interrupt it by dipping and deviating into other books, un- 
relative to it : but consult only the most authentic histories, 

1 Aim at a certain end. 

2 By the Peace of Westphalia, the Thirty Years' War between the Protes- 
tants of North Germany and the Catholics of South Germany came to an 
end. The principal treaty was signed at Munster, capital of the Province 
of Westphalia, Oct. 24, 1684 ; it secured the independence of Switzerland 
and the Netherlands and contained many other provisions. 



164 lord chesterfield's lette 

letters, memoirs, and negotiations relative to thai 
transaction; reading and comparing them, with all thai 
caution and distrust which Lord Bolingbroke recommends 
bo you, in a better manner and in better words than I can. 
The nexl period, worth your particular knowledge, is the 

Treaty of the Pyrenees 1 ; which was calculated to lay, and 

iii effeel did lay, the foundation of the succession of the 
House of Bourbon s to the crown of Spain. Pursue thai in 
the same manner, singling, ou1 of the millions of volumes 
written upon thai occasion, the two or three mosl authentic 
ones; and particularly letters, which are the l»est authori- 
ties in matters of negotiation. Next conn' the Treatii 
Nimeguen 3 and Byswick, 4 postscripts in a manner to those 

o! Minister and the Pyrenees. Those t wo t ransaet ions have 

had great light thrown upon them by the publication of 
many authentic and original letters and pieces. The con- 
cessions made at the Treaty of Byswick, by the then 
triumphant Louis the Fourteenth, astonished all those who 
viewed things only superficially; but, 1 should think, must 
have hern easily accounted for by those who knew the state 
of the kingdom of Spain, as well as of the health of its 
King, Charles the Second, at thai time. The interval be- 
tween the conclusion of the peace of Byswick, and the 
breaking out of the greal war in 1702, though a short, is a 
most interesting one. Every week of it almost produced 

some -reat event, Two Partition Treaties, the death of the 

King of* Spain, his unexpected will, and tin 4 acceptance of it 
by Louis the Fourteenth, in violation of the second treaty 
of partition, jusl si-ned and ratified by him. Philip the 
Fifth, quietly and cheerfully received in Spain, and acknowl- 

1 Range of mountains separating Prance From Spain. The treaty be- 
tween the two countries was ]ua<l<- In 1609 and i>y its terms a large tract <»i 
Spanish territory was .Tilnl to Prance. 

- Royal honae of Prance, Spain, and Naples. 
I ii Y of ( rekierland, Netherlands. 

4 City of Holland, near the Hague. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 155 

edged as King of it, by most of those Powers, who after- 
wards joined in an alliance to dethrone him. I cannot help 
making this observation npon that occasion : That character 
has often more to do in great transactions, than prndence 
and sound policy: for Louis the Fourteenth gratified his 
persona] pride, by giving a Bonrbon King to Spain, at the 
expense of the true interest of France ; which would have 
acquired much more solid and permanent strength by the 
addition of Naples, Sicily, and Lorraine, 1 upon the foot of 
the second Partition Treaty ; and I think it was fortunate 
for Europe that he preferred the will. It is true, he might 
hope to influence his grandson ; but he could never expect 
that his Bourbon posterity in France should influence his 
Bourbon posterity in Spain ; he knew too well how weak 
the ties of blood are among men, and how much weaker still 
they are among Princes. The Memoirs of Count Harrach, 
and of Las Torres, give a good deal of light into the trans- 
actions of the Court of Spain, previous to the death of that 
weak King; and the letters of the Marechal d'Harcourt, 
then the French Ambassador in Spain, of which I have 
authentic copies in manuscript, from the year 1698 to 1701, 
have cleared up that whole affair- to me. I keep that book 
for you. It appears by those letters, that the imprudent 
conduct of the House of Austria, with regard to the King 
and Queen of Spain, and Madame Berlips, her favorite, to- 
gether with the knowledge of the Partition Treaty, which 
incensed all Spain, were the true and only reasons of the 
will in favor of the Duke of Anjou. 2 Cardinal Portocarrero, 
nor any of the grandees, were bribed by France, as was gen- 
erally Teported and believed at that time ; which confirms 
Voltaire's 3 anecdote upon that subject. Then opens a new 

1 A region lying between France and Germany. It now belongs to the 
latter. 

2 Famous noble honse of France (1694-1778). 

3 Famous French writer. 



156 LORD CHE8TEKFJELD'S LETTER8, 

Bcene and a new century: Louis the Fourteenth's 
fortune forsakes him, till the Duke of ftfarlborough and 
Prince Eugene make him amends for all the mischief they 
had done him, by making the allies refuse the terms of 
peace offered by him at Gertruydenberg. 1 How the dis- 
advantageous peace of Utrecht was afterwards brought on, 

you have lately read; and you cannot inform yourself too 

minutely of all those circumstances, thai treaty being the 
freshest source, from whence the late transactions of Europe 

have flowed. The alterations which have since happened, 

whether by wars or treaties, are so recent, that all the writ- 
ten accounts are to he helped out, proved, or contradicted, 
by tin 4 oral ones of almost every informed person of a cer- 
tain age or rank in life. For the facts, dates, and original 
pieces of this century, you will find them in Lamberti, till 
the year 1715, and after that time in Rousset's Recueil. 

I do not mean that you should plod hours together in 
researches of this kind; no, you may employ your time 
more usefully; but I mean that you should make the mosl 
of the moments you do employ by method, and the pursuit 
of one single object at a time. 

All that I have said may be reduced to these two or three 
plain principles: 1st, That you should now read very little, 
but Converse a great deal; 2ndly, To read no useless, un- 
profitable books; and .'h'dly, That those which you do read, 
may all tend to a certain object, and be relative to, and 
consequential of, each other. In this method, half-andiour's 
reading, every day, will carry you a great way. People 
seldom know how to employ their time to the best advan- 
tage, till they have too little left to employ; but if, at your 
age, in the beginning of life, people would but consider the 
value of it, and put every moment to interest, it is incredible 

1 A t«»wn in the Netherlands, twenty-five miles 8.E. Rotterdam. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 157 

what an additional fund of knowledge and pleasure such an 
economy would bring in. I look back with regret upon that 
large sum of time, which, in my youth, I lavished away idly, 
without either improvement or pleasure. Take warning 
betimes, and enjoy every moment ; pleasures do not com- 
monly last so long as life, and therefore should not be 
neglected ; and the longest life is too short for knowledge, 
consequently every moment is precious. . . . Adieu. 

LETTER XLIX. 

THE ART OF PLEASING. 

London, May 27, O. S. 1753. 
My Dear Friend, 

I have this day been tired, jaded, nay, tormented, by the 
company of a most worthy, sensible, and learned man, a 
near relation of mine, who dined and passed the evening 
with me. This seems a paradox, but is a plain truth ; he 
has no knowledge of the world, no manners, no address ; 
far from talking without book, as is commonly said of 
people who talk sillily, he only talks by book ; which, in 
general conversation, is ten times worse. He has formed 
in his own closet, from books, certain systems of every- 
thing, argues tenaciously upon those principles, and is both 
surprised and angry at whatever deviates from them. His 
theories are good, but, unfortunately, are all impracticable. 
Why ? Because he has only read, and not conversed. He 
is acquainted with books, and an absolute stranger to men. 
Laboring with his matter, he is delivered of it with pangs ; 
he hesitates, stops in his utterance, and always expresses 
himself inelegantly. His actions are all ungraceful ; so 
that, with all his merit and knowledge, I would rather con- 
verse six hours with the most frivolous tittle-tattle woman, 
who knew something of the world, than with him. The 



158 lord chesterfield's letters, 

preposterous notions of ;i systematica] man, who dors not 
know tlit* world, tire the patiellce of a man who doea It 
would be endless to correct his mistakes, nor would he 
take it kindly; tor lie has considered everything deliber- 
ately, and is jrery sure that he is in the right, [mpropriety 
is a characteristic, and a never-failing one, of these people. 
Regardless, because ignorant, of custom and manners, they 
violate them every moment. They often shock, though 
they never mean to offend; neve]- attending either to the 
genera] character, or the particular distinguishing circum- 
stances of the people to whom, or before whom, they talk : 
whereas the knowledge of the world teaches one that the 
wry same things which are exceedingly righl and proper in 
one company, time, and place, are exceedingly absurd in 
others. In short, a man who has great knowledge, from 
experience and observation of the characters, customs, ami 
manners of mankind, is a being as different from, and as 
superior to, a man of mere book and systematical knowl- 
edge, as a well-managed horse is to an ass. Study there- 
fore, cultivate, and frequent, men and women ; not only in 
their outward, and consequently guarded, but in their 
interior, domestic, and consequently less disguised, char- 
acters, and manners. Take your notions of things, as by 
observation and experience you find they really are. and 
not as you read that they are or should be; for they never 
are quite what they should be. For this purpose do not 
content yourself with general and common acquaintance; 
but, wherever you can, establish yourself, with a kind of 
domestic familiarity, in goodhouses. For instance; go again 
t<> ( ) il i for t wo or three days, and so at t wo or three reprises. 1 
GrO and stay two or three days at a time at Versailles,- and 

improve ami extend the acquaintance you have there. Be 

1 Repetitions. 

- Capital oi Department of Seine-et-Oise, 11 milesS. W. ol Paris. Con- 
tains iiif royal palace ol Louis Mil. and \l\\ 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 159 

at home at St. Cloud T ; and whenever any private person of 
fashion invites you to pass a few days at his country-house, 
accept of the invitation. This will necessarily give you a 
versatility of mind, and a facility to adopt various manners 
and customs; for everybody desires to please those in 
whose house they are ; and people are only to be pleased 
in their own way. Nothing is more engaging than a cheer- 
ful and easy conformity to people's particular manners, 
habits, and even weaknesses ; nothing (to use a vulgar 
expression) should come amiss to a young fellow. He 
should be, for good purposes, what Alcibiacles 2 was com- 
monly for bad ones, a Proteus, 3 assuming with ease, and 
wearing with cheerfulness, any shape. Heat, cold, luxury, 
abstinence, gravity, gaiety, ceremony, easiness, learning, 
trifling, business, and pleasure, are modes which he should 
be able to take, lay aside, or change occasionally, with as 
much ease as he would take or lay aside his hat. All this 
is only to be acquired by use and knowledge of the world, 
by keeping a great deal of company, analyzing every char- 
acter, and insinuating yourself into the familiarity of 
various acquaintance. A right, a generous ambition to 
make a figure in the world, necessarily gives the desire of 
pleasing ; the desire of pleasing points out, to a great 
degree, the means of doing it ; and the art of pleasing is, 
in truth, the art of rising, of distinguishing one's self, of 
making a figure and a fortune in the world. . . . The 
care which has been taken of you, and (to do you justice) 
the care you have taken of yourself, has left you, at the age 
of nineteen only, nothing to acquire but the knowledge of 
the world, manners, address, and those exterior accomplish- 
ments. But they are great and necessary acquisitions to 

1 Town near Paris, once residence of French kings. 

2 Noted politician and general of Greece (450-404 B.C.). 

3 In classic mythology, a sea-god, who had the power of assuming differ- 
ent shapes. 



160 U >RD OHBSl BRFIELD*S LETTERS, 

those who have B6n86 enough to know theii true value; 
and your getting them before you are one-and-twenty, and 
before you enter upon the active and shining scene of life, 
will give you such an advantage over all your contempo- 
raries, that they cannot overtake you; they must be dis- 
tanced. Yon may probably be placed about a young 
Prince, who will probably I** 1 a young King. Then- all the 
various arts of pleasing, the engaging address, the versatility 
of manners, the brillant, the Graces, will outweigh and yet 
outrun all solid knowledge and unpolished merit. nil 
yOUl"8elf therefore, and he both supple and shining lor that 
i ace, if you would he iirst. or early, at the goaL Ladies 

will most probably, too, have something to say there; and 
those who are best with them, will probably be best wome- 
where else. Labor this great point, my dear child, inde- 

fatigably; attend to tin 4 very smallest parts, the minutest 
es, the nio^t trifling circumstances, that can possibly 

concur in forming the shining character of a complete < ientle- 
man, a man of business and pleasure. ... In this view 
observe the Bllining part of every man of fashion, who is 
liked and esteemed; attend to, and imitate that particular 
accomplishment for which you hear him chiefly celebrated 

and distinguished; then collect those various parts, and 

make yourself a mosaic of tin 4 whole. N«» one body pos- 
sesses everything, and almost everybody possesses someone 

thing worthy of imitation; only choose your models well; 

and, in order to di^ *<k ch008e by your ear more than by 
your eye. The best model is always that which is most 
universally allowed to he the hot. though in strictness it 
may possibly not he so. We must take mo&t things as they 

are, we cannot make them what we would, nor often what 
they should he; and where moral duties are not concerned 
it is more prudent to follow, than to attempt to lead. Adieu. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 161 

LETTER L. 

PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. 

London, February 26, 1754. 
My Dear Friend, 

I have received your letters of the 4th from Munich, and 
of the 11th from Eatisbon ; but I have not received that of 
the 31st January, to which you refer in the former. It is 
to this negligence and uncertainty of the post that you owe 
your accidents between Munich and Eatisbon ; for had you 
received my letters regularly, you would have received one 
from me before you left Munich, in which I advised you to 
stay, since you were so well there. But at all events, you 
were in the wrong to set out from Munich in such weather 
and such roads ; since you could never imagine that I had 
set my heart so much upon your going to Berlin as to ven- 
ture your being buried in the snow for it. Upon the whole, 
considering all, you are very well off. You do very well, 
in my mind, to return to Munich, or at least to keep within 
the circle of Munich, Eatisbon, and Mannheim, till the 
weather and the roads are good : stay at each or any of 
those places as long as ever you please, for I am extremely 
indifferent about your going to Berlin. 

As to our meeting, I will tell you my plan, and you may 
form your own accordingly. I propose setting out from 
hence the last week in April, then drinking the Aix-la- 
Chapelle 1 waters for a week, and from thence being at Spa 
about the 15th of May, where I shall stay two months at 
most, and then returning straight to England. As I both 
hope and believe that there will be no mortal at Spa during 
my residence there, the fashionable season not beginning 
till the middle of July, I would by no means have you come 

1 City in the Rhine Province, Prussia, commercial center, — manufac- 
turing city, — famous for its hot sulphur springs. 

M 



162 U >RD CHE8TEBFJ ELD'S LETTER8. 

there at first, to be locked up with me and some few Capu- 
cinSf 1 for two months in that miserable hole; but I would 
advise you to May where you like best, till about the fir.st 
week in July, and then to come and pick me up at Spa, or 
meel me upon the road at Liege* or Brussels. 1 As for the 
intermediate time, should you be weary of Mannheim and 
Munich, yon may, if you please, go to Dresden to Sir 
Charles Williams, who will he there before that time; or 
you may come tor a month or six weeks to the Hague, or, 
in short, go or stay wherever you like best So much for 
\ our mot ions. 

A> you have sent for all the letters directed to you at 
Berlin, you will receive from thence volumes of mine, 
among which you will easily perceive that some were calcu- 
lated for a supposed perusal previous to your opening them. 
I will not repeat anything contained in them, excepting 
that I desire you will send me a warm and cordial letter of 
thanks for Mr. Eliot, who has in the most friendly manner 
imaginable fixed you at his own borough of Liskeard, where 
you will be elected, jointly with him, without the least 
opposition or difficulty. I will forward that letter to him 
into Cornwall, where he now is. 

Now. that you are soon to be a man of business. I heartily 
wish you would immediately begin to be a man of method, 
nothing contributing more to facilitate and dispatch busi- 
ness than method and order. Have order and method in 
your accounts, in your reading, in the allotment of your 

time, in short, in everything. You cannot conceive how 

much time you will save by it. nor how much better every- 
thing you do will be done ^s you must be conscious 

that you are extremely negligent and slatternly. 1 hope you 

will resolve not to be so tor the future. Prevail with your- 
self Only to observe good method and order for one foit- 

1 Order of monks, rounded in Italy in I 
- ( it ies "i Belgium. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 163 

night, and I will venture to assure you that you will never 
neglect them afterwards, you will find such conveniency 
and advantage arising from them. Method is the great 
advantage that lawyers have over other people in speaking 
in Parliament ; for, as they must necessarily observe it in 
their pleadings in the Courts of Justice, it becomes habitual 
to them everywhere else. Without making you a compli- 
ment, I can tell you with pleasure, that order, method, and 
more activity of mind, are all that you want, to make, some 
day or other, a considerable figure in business. You have 
more useful knowledge, more discernment of characters, 
and much more discretion than is common at your age ; 
much more, I am sure, than I had at that age. — Experience 
you cannot yet have, and therefore trust in the meantime 
to mine. I am an old traveller ; am well acquainted with 
all the by, as well as the great, roads; I cannot misguide 
you from ignorance, and you are very sure I shall not from 
design. 

I can assure you that you will have no opportunity of 
subscribing yourself, my Excellency's, etc. Retirement and 
quiet were my choice some years ago, while I had all my 
senses, and health and spirits enough to carry on business ; 
but now I have lost my hearing, and find my constitution 
declining daily, they are become my necessary and only 
refuge. I know myself (no common piece of knowledge, 
let me tell you), I know what I can, what I cannot, and 
consequently what I ought to do. I ought not, and there- 
fore will not, return to business, when I am much less fit 
for it than I was when I quitted it. Still less will I go to 
Ireland, where, from my deafness and infirmities, I must 
necessarily make a different figure from that which I once 
made there. My pride would be too much mortified by 
that difference. The two important senses of seeing and 
hearing should not only be good, but quick, in business ; 
and the business of a Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland (if he will 



L6 1 lord chesterfield's letters, 

do it himself) requires both tho - in the highest per- 

fection. . . . Moreover, I look upon myself now to be 
emeritus 1 in business, in which I have been near forty v< 

ther; I give it up to you: apply yourself to it, as I have 
done, for f ortj years, and thru I consenl to your Leaving it 
fora philosophical retirement, among your friends and your 
books. Statesmen and beauties are very rarely sensible of 
tin* gradations of their decay; and. too sanguinely hoping 
to shine on in their meridian, often set with contempt and 
ridicule. I retired in time, uti conviva mtur* ; or, as Pope 
say j, -till better, " Ere tittering youth shall shove yon from 
the st,i_ My only remaining ambition is to be the 

counsellor and minister of your rising ambition. Let me 

iriy own youth revived in you; let me be your Mentor, 
and. with your parts and knowledge, I promise you, you 
shall go far. Sou must bring, on your ]»art. activity and 
attention, and 1 will point out to you the proper objects 
them. 1 own I fear but one thing for you. and that is what 
one has generally the least reason to tear, from one of your 

. 1 mean your laziness, which, if you indulge, will make 
you stagnate in a contemptible obscurity all your life. It 

v. ill hinder you from doing anything that will deserve to be 
written, or from writing anything that may deserve to be 
read; and yet one or other of these two objects should 
be at least aimed at by every rational being. I look upon 
indolence as a sort of suicide ; for the man is effectually 

destroyed, though the appetites of the brute may survive. 

Business by no means forbids pleasures: on the contrary, 
they reciprocally reason each other; and I will venture to 
affirm, that DO man enjoys either in perfection that does not 
join both. They whet the desire for each other. Use your- 
self therefore, in time, to be alert and diligent in your little 
terns: never procrastinate, never put off till to-morrow 

1 One retired from active official Bervice. 

- \ i - ited banqueter. Horace, Bk. 1. Satire 1. line 119. 



fc LORD CHESTERFIELD^ LETTERS. 165 

what you can do to-day : and never do two things at a time : 
pursue your object, be it what it will, steadily and indefati- 
gably ; and let any difficulties (if surmountable) rather 
animate than slacken your endeavors. Perseverance has 
surprising effects. 

I wish you would use yourself to translate, every day, 
only three or four lines, from any book, in any language, 
into the correctest and most elegant English that you can 
think of ; you cannot imagine how it will insensibly form 
your style, and give you an habitual elegancy : it would not 
take you up a quarter of an hour in a day. This letter is 
so long, that it will hardly leave you that quarter of an hour, 
the day you receive it. So good-night. 



MAXIMS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD. 

In a letter of Lord Chesterfield's to his son, bearing the 
date of January L5, 1763, he writes: — 

My Dear Friend, 

I never think my time so well employed as when ] think 
it employed to your advantage. You have long had the 
greatest share of it: you now engross it: The moment is 
now decisive; the piece is going to be exhibited to the pub- 
lic; the mere outlines, and the general coloring are not suffi- 
cient to attract the eye, and to secure applause ; but the last 
finishing, artful and delicate strokes are necessary. Skilful 
judges will discern and acknowledge their merit; the igno- 
rant will, without knowing why, feel their power. In that 
view, I have thrown together, for your use, the enclosed 
maxims; or to speak more properly, observations on men 
and things: for I have no merit as to the invention: and, 
instead of giving way to my imagination, I have only con- 
sulted my memory ; and my conclusions are all drawn from 
facts, not from fancy. Most maxim-mongers have preferred 
the prettiness to the justness of a thought, and the turn to 
the truth; but I have refused myself to everything that my 
own experience did not justify and confirm. . . . Adieu. 

Some of the proverbial sayings in this list are taken from 
the collection of which Lord Chesterfield speaks in the fore- 
going letter. The remaining maxims appear in the regular 
course of his correspondence. 

166 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 167 

A proper secrecy is the only mystery of able men ; mys- 
tery is the only secrecy of weak and cunning ones. 

A man who tells nothing, or who tells all, will equally 
have nothing told to him. 

Next to the doing of things that deserve to be written, 
there is nothing that gets a man more credit, or gives him 
more pleasure, than to write things that deserve to be read. 

People will always be shy of receiving any man who 
comes from a place where the plague rages, let him look 
ever so healthy. 

I would wish you to be a Corinthian edifice, upon a Tus- 
can foundation; the latter having the utmost strength and 
solidity to support, and the former all possible ornaments 
to decorate. 

Whoever is in a hurry shows that the thing he is about 
is too big for him. Haste and hurry are very different 
things. 

In the case of scandal, as in that of robbery, the receiver 
is always thought as bad as the thief. 

A man of the world must, like the chameleon, be able to 
take every different hue; which is by no means a criminal 
or abject, but a necessary complaisance, for it relates only 
to manners and not to morals. 

Pray be always in motion. Early in the morning go and 
see things ; and the rest of the day go and see people. 

Company is a republic too jealous of its liberties to suffer 
a dictator even for a quarter of an hour. 

Good breeding carries along with it a dignity that is re- 
spected by the most petulant. Ill breeding invites and 
authorizes the familiarity of the most timid. 

When a man of sense happens to be in that disagreeable 
situation, in which he is obliged to ask himself more than 
once, What shall I do f he^ will answer himself, Nothing. 



L68 lord chesterfield's letters. 

When bis reason points out to him no good way, or at least 
no \\ a \ less bad than another, he will stop short and wait 
for light. A little, busy mind runs on at all events, must 
In- doing; and, like a blind horse, fears no dangers, because 
be aees none. 

No man ever said a perl thing to the Duke of Marl- 
borough, NO man ever said a civil one (though many a 
tlat tering one | to Sir Robert VValpole. 

I would by no means have yon disown your acquaintance 
with tin' Ancients; but still less would have yon brag of an 
exclusive intimacy with them, speak of the .Moderns with- 
out contempt and of the Ancients without idolatry. Judge 
them well by their merits, but not by their ages; and if you 
happen to have an Elzevir classic in your pocket, neither 

show it nor mention it. 

Patience is a most necessary qualification for business; 

many a man would rather yon heard his .story than granted 

his request. One must seem to bear the unreasonable de- 
mands :>f the petulant unmoved, and the tedious details of 
the dull untired. That is the least price a man must pay 
for a high station. 

A young man, be his merit what it will, ran never n 
himself; but must, like the ivy round the oak. twine himseif 
round some man of great power and interest. You must 
belong to a minister some time before anybody will belong 
to you. And an inviolable fidelity to that minister, even in 
his disgrace, will be meritorious, and recommend yon to the 

next. Ministers love a personal, much more than a party, 

at tachment. 

\- kings are begotten and horn like other men. it is to he 
presumed that they are of the human species; and perhaps, 

had they the same education, they might prow like other 

men. But, flattered from their cradles, their hearts are cor- 
rupted and their leads are turned, SO that they seem to be a 

species by themselves. 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 169 

Lay aside the best book whenever you go into the best 
company ; depend upon it you change for the better. 

Common sense (which in truth is very uncommon) is the 
best sense I know of ; abide by it ; it will counsel you best. 

Lord Shaftesbury recommends self-conversation to all 
authors; and I would recommend it to all men; they 
would be better for it; if a man would allot half an hour 
every night for this self-conversation, and recapitulate with 
himself whatever he has done, right or wrong, in the course 
of the day, he would be both the better and the wiser for it. 

Be your character what it will, it will be known ; and 
nobody will take it upon your own word. Never imagine 
that anything you can say yourself will varnish your de- 
fects, or add lustre to your perfections; but on the con- 
trary, it may, and nine times out of ten, will, make the 
former more glaring and the latter obscure. 

A man who cannot command his temper, his attention, 
and his countenance, should not think of being a man of 
business. 

If a fool knows a secret, he tells it because he is a fool; 
if a knave knows one, he tells it wherever it is his interest 
to tell it. 

Distrust all those who love you extremely upon a very 
slight acquaintance, and without any visible reason. Be 
upon your guard, too, against those who confess, as their 
weaknesses, all the cardinal virtues. 

Smooth your way to the head through the heart. The 
way of reason is a good one ; but it is commonly something 
longer, and perhaps not so sure. 

It is always right to detect a fraud, and to perceive a 
folly ; but it is often very wrong to expose either. A man 
of business should always have his eyes open; but must 
often seem to have them shut. 



170 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S letters. 

Never apply for what you Bee very little probability of 
obtainin 

It is hard to say which is the greater fool, he who tells 
the whole truth, or he who tells do truth at all. Character 
is as necessary in business as in trade. Mo man can de- 
ceive often in either. 

Knowledge may give weight, hut accomplishments only 

give lustre; and many more people see than weigh. 

Take care always to form your establishment so much 

within your income, as to leave a sufficient fund for unex- 
pected contingencies and a prudent liberality. 

Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people you 
are with. Wear your learning like your watch, in a private 
pocket : and do not pull it out and strike it, merely to show- 
that you have one. 



Classic English — Prose and Verse 



FOR USE IN SCHOOLS 



THE SILVER SERIES OF CLASSICS 



Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley Pa- 
pers. Twombly. Pa., 15c. CI., 25c. 

Arnold's Sohrab and Rustuni, and other 
Poems. Seabury. Pa., 20c. CI., }oc. 

Burke's Speech on Conciliation with 
the American Colonies. Lane. Pa., 
20c. CI., 30c. 

Burns' Selected Poems. Kent. CI. ,25c. 

Byron's The Prophecy of Dante, Cantos 
I. and II. Sampson. (In press.) 

Carlyle's Essay on Burns. Sprague. 
Pa., 25c. CI., 35c. 

Chesterfield's Letters. Seabury. (In 
press.) 

Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mari- 
ner. Twombly. Pa., 15c. CI., 25c. 

Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. 
Cook. CI., 50c. 

De Quincey's Revolt of the Tartars. 
Twombly. Pa., 15c. CI., 25c. 

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. Twom- 
bly. Pa., 1 6c. CI., 25c. 

Eliot's Silas Marner. Maxcy. CI., 35c. 

Goldsmith's The Traveller and The De- 
serted Village. Tupper. Pa., 20c. 
CI., 30c. 

Keats' The Eve of Si. Agnes. Bates 
(In press.) 

Lamb's Essays. North. CI., 30c. 

Macaulay's Essay on Addison. Twombly. 
Pa., 20c. CI., 30c. 

Macaulay's Essay on Milton. Twombly. 
Pa., 15c. CI., 25c. 

Macaulay's The Lays of Ancient Rome. 
Osborne. Pa., 25c. CI., 35c. 

Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I. and II. 
Twombly. Pa., 15c. CI., 25c. 



Milton's Select Minor Poems. Thomas. 

Pa., 30c. CI., 48c. 
Pope's Essay on Man and Essay on 

Criticism. Seabury. Pa., 20c. CI. 

30c. 
Pope's Translation of Homer's Iliad. 

Books I., VI., XXII., XXIV. Twombly. 

Pa., 20c. CI., 30c. 
Pope's The Rape of the Lock. Eaton. 

Pa., 15c CI., 25c. 
Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. Cook. 

Pa., 25c. CI., 35c. 
Scott's Ivanhoe. Alexander. CI., 60c. 
Shakespeare's Macbeth. Pattee. Pa., 

25c. CI., 40c. 
Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Currell. 

(In press.) 
Shelley's Alastor and Adonais. Roberts. 

(In press.) 
Southey's Life of Nelson. 

30c. CI., 40c. 
Spenser's Faerie Queen. 

press.) 
Tennyson's Holy Grail. 

35c. 
Tennyson's Elaine and The Passing of 

Arthur. Thomas. Pa., 20c. CI., 30c. 
Tennyson's The Princess. Chalmers. 

Pa., 25c. CI., 35c. 
Webster's First Oration on Bunker Hill 

Monument. Twombly. Pa., 15c. 

CI., 25c. 
Wordsworth's The Excursion. (With 

short poems.) Seabury. (In press.) 
A Collection of Old English Ballads. 

Kinard. (In press.) 
Ballads of American Bravery. Scol- 

LARD. CI., 5OC. 



Twombly. Pa., 
Stempel. (In 
Jewett. CI., 



Sprague's Studies in English Classics 

Uniform: Pa., 30c.; CI., 48c. 



Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. 
Scott's The Lady of the Lake. 
Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's 

Dream. 
Shakespeare's As You Like It. 



Shakespeare's Hamlet. 
Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. 
Shakespeare's Macbeth. 
Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. 
Shakespeare's The Tempest* 



SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY 



NEW YORK 



BOSTON 



CHICAGO 



ELEMENTARY SCHOOL MUSIC 

The Silver Song Series 

n->. i. / vman. rosea f,, r three 

Recreation B • . is voices .... 1a cents 

nti ( 1 mean, Kor Bth 01 

n ! Reiify. Por ."1 or grades. Choruses for thr 

i5centfl including a number with i»a->s 

1 1 u\ .,1 ;• ' ]):tl t .... 12 cents 

■ one and two 1 N Por High Schools. (Inpn 

No, 1 Marshall, Por 4th or 5th No. i r >. Hailmann, Sacred Sonf 

les. i 4 one and two vol Children ■ . . 12 cents 

'• ' o. ix. Cole* Songs for all occasions. 

• b <>r 6t h grades, (In i 1 

1 ,; S • »and< No. ra, ■. ■ \ and Alden. 

Marshall. Por 6th or 7th ition Songs. Double Nun 

►ne, two and thi cloth, 36 cents, papei cents 

voices . . . [2 cents No, 1 j Sacred - 

No. 7. Birge, P01 7th or 8th gri School Dse . . . i a cents 

The Modern Music Series. Edited by Eleanor Smith, 
Teacher of Music ill the Chicago Kindergarten Coilege and 
FrocbeTs Kindergarten School. 

A scries of four books and supplementary books, remarkable for the wonderful 
beauty of the music contained therein and for their perfection of gradation. 
Includes : 

A PaiMBI OF Vocal Music. For Primary Grades 1C cents 

A First Book of Vocal Music. For 3d and 4th grades 30 cents 

A SlCOND Book of Vocal Music. For 5th and 6th grades 40 cents 

A Third Hook of Vocal Music. For 7th and 8th grades 50 cents 

Normal Music Course. By J. W. Tufts and H. E. Hoit. 

A series of four music readers, with supplementary books and charts, widely 
employed in the teaching ofvocaJ music in schools. Send for List. 

Sunshine Melodies. By Prof. Nathan L. Glover and Mrs. 

M. A. HARRIS. A recreation song book for Primary Schools and 
Kindergartens. Full ofgayety and pretty fancies. 72pp 36 cents 

Songs of Happy Life. Compiled by Sarah J. Eddy. 

A supplementary Bong hook for use in schools, as well a^ homes and Band- of 
Men v. Includes songs for special occasion ■ 136PP 30 cents 

The Child's First Studies in Music. By Samuel W.Colb, 
Professor in The New England Conservatory of Music. 

\ Handbook oi comfanimbmts and Illustrations 60 cents 

Charts. Size 3-M4 Inches. With Tripod Supporter $6.00 

The School Hymnary. By Joseph A. Graves, Ph. D., late 
Principal, Hartford, Conn. Embodies the best hymns for ordinary 
school exercises ot worship, within the musical ability of children. 1 ~6pp,4.8 cents 

SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY 
New York Boston Chicago 



Stepping Stones to Literature* 



A Unique Series of Eight School Readers 
upon an entirely New Plan, Brilliantly Illus- 
trated with Masterpieces and Original Drawings. 



By Sarah Louise Arnold, Supervisor of Schools, Boston, Mass., 
and Charles B. Gilbert, Superintendent of Schools, Newark, N. J. 




This series marks a new era in School Readers. It combines with the necessary 
technique of reading, a real course in literature. It has the sincere literary atmos- 
phere. The early volumes create the beginnings of a literary judgment. The 
advanced volumes comprehend the whole range of the world's best writing. The 
pupil, at the end of the course, knows what literature means. 

In this achievement these Readers stand absolutely alone. They justify the 
following deliberate characterizations : 

They are the most interesting Readers ever published. 

They surpass all other Readers in wise technique. 

They are superlative in stimulating thought and creating taste. 

They are unequaled in attractiveness of illustration. 

They give a better idea of the world's great literature, and more of it, than 
can be found anywhere else in the same space. 

A Mark of Their Acceptability. 

In their first year they were adopted by Boston, New York, Brooklyn, Phila- 
delphia, Chicago, St. Louis, Baltimore, Atlanta ; by over a thousand smaller towns j 
by hundreds of counties ; and by the State of Virginia. 

Patriotism in These Readers. 

The entire series is peculiarly rich in selections and pictures closely connected 
with American history and American greatness, well fitted to stimulate love of 
country in the pupil. The " Reader for Seventh Grades," is distinctively and wholly 
American, and its tales, poems, historical extracts, and illustrations are alive with a 
proud patriotism. Send for Descriptive Circular. 

Silver, Burdett and Company, Publishers, 

New York. Boston. Chicago. 



Text- Books for Commercial Education 



Introduction to the Study of Commerce. By FREDEl row, 

Ph.D., State Normal School, Oshkosh, Wisconsin. With an intro- 
duction bj L. W. Taussig, Ph.D., LL.B., Professor of Political 
Economy, Harvard University, Illustrated by m charts and dia- 
grams showing demand and supply, exports and imports, market 
prices, etc. cloth, 250 pp. Si. 25. 

This l k is derigned as a working manual of econo mi c! and industrial geography 

for students who are s i to p.«ss from school into pra< tic al life. The governing pur- 

mning through the work is not so much to prepare the student for pr.i 
business as to rnable him to comprehend the principles which lie at the bottom of all 
business, .uid to give him that larger intelligence by which he may see the social sig- 
nificance of any detail, as well as its relation to his own pocket. 

Business Law. By Thomas Raeburn White, B.L., LL.B., Lec- 
turer on Law in the University of Pennsylvania. With an intro- 
duction by Roland P. Falkner, Ph.D., Associate Professor "f 
Statistics, University of Pennsylvania. Cloth, 367 pp. 

The elementary principles of law involved in the more common business transac- 
tions clearly stated, and free from technicality. 



"An admirable little work, well suited for both high school and college classes. 
Sufficiently comprehensive, and the subjects treated are explained concisely and 
clearly. A careful study of such a work would give to a student much valuable disci- 
pline, and a great deal of useful knowledge." — J. E. Ls :., Department of 
History and Economics, University of Denver, University Park, Colo. 



Baldwin's Industrial History of the United States. By I . 
SPENCER Baldwin, Ph.D., R.P.D., Professor of Political Economy 

and Social Science, Boston University, Boston, Mass. Jn prepa- 
ration. 

Outlines of the Industrial History of the United States. 

Introduction to the Study of Economics. By CHARLES Jesse 
Bullock, Ph.D., Assistant Professor of Economics, Williams Col- 
lege. New edition, revised and enlarged. 5S1 pp. $1.28. 

A broad discussion of the principles of economics ; special reference to economic 
and monetary history of the united States. 

"The best elementary up-to-date manual I know of." — W. M. Daniels, A.M., 
Department of Economics, Princeton University. 

Institutes of Economics. ByE. Benjamin Andrews, D.D., LL.D., 

Chancellor of the University of Nebraska, late President of Drown 
University. New and revised edition. 240pp. $i.i<>. 

Brevity, thoroughness, keen analysis, and encouragement to side-reading, charac- 
terize this scholarly work. 

"The work is one of remarkable merit."— Dr. George P. FlSHBK, in The Vmit 
Review* 



Correspondence about any of our Books cordially invii 

SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY 

NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 



Standard Library Books 

The Religious Use of Imagination 

By Elias H. Johnson, Professor in Crozer Theological 
Seminary, Chester, Pa. 236 pages. $1.00. 

Ten New England Leaders 

By Williston Walker, Ph.D., D.D., Hartford Theo- 
logical Seminary. 480 pages. Uncut edges, gilt top. $2.00. 

Marcus Whitman and the Early Days of Oregon 

By William A. Mowry. Illustrated. 358 pages. Uncut 
edges, gilt top. $1.50. 

Some Aspects of the Religious Life in New England 

By George Leon Walker, D.D. 208 pages. $1.25. 

An Introduction to the Life of Jesus 

By Alfred Williams Anthony, Professor of New 
Testament Exegesis and Criticism, Cobb Divinity School, 
Lewiston, Me. 206 pages. $1.00. 

The Method of Jesus 

By Alfred Williams Anthony. 266 pages. $1.25. 

Manual of Christian Theology 

By Alvah Hovey, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Apolo- 
getics and General Introductions in the Newton Theo- 
logical Institution. 499 pages. $2.00. 

A Harmony of the Gospels 

By William Arnold Stevens, D.D., Professor in the 
Rochester Theological Seminary, and Ernest DeWitt 
Burton, Professor in the University of Chicago. 240 
pages. $1.50. 

An Outline Handbook of the Life of Christ 

By William Arnold Stevens and Ernest DeWitt 
Burton. 48 pages. Cloth, 50 cents ; paper, 25 cents. 

Preachers and Preaching 

Lectures delivered at the Cobb Divinity School, Sep- 
tember 4-12, 1899. 2 76 pages. $1.50. 

An Outline of New Testament Theology 

By David Foster Estes, D.D., Professor of New Testa- 
ment Interpretation, Colgate University. 262 pages. $1.25. 

SILVER, BURDETT & COHPANY 

NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 



Other Publications of 
Silver, Burdett 8? Company 

Ballads of American Bravery. 

A Collection bj Clinton Scollard. 230 pp* 9 ?s cents, 

Irring and unexcelled collection of" the bravest lyrics w ich celebrate de< 

I be ballads arc chosen with - .;niuatiou an .1 are 

edited with extensive historical notes. 

Songs of the Nation. 

Compiled by (Jul. Charles W. Johnson. ^ /i> pf>-> 7J C - 

A inperb collection, embodying the patriotic soup most in demand) soup for anniver- 

... , a group of' religioui favorites; 'tic Lest college 

i etc. 

Hawaii and its People. 

By Alexander S. Twombly. 384 pp., ?j illustrations, fi, 

liption of our new possession, timely, accurate and spirited* I 
t the heroic, legendary period, and the authentic his ll illus- 

ions and opportunities. 

American Writers of To-day. 

By Henry C. Vedder. 340 pp., $1.50. 

Critical and sympathetic analysis of nineteen recent American authors and their books, 
Interwoven with graphic personal details. 

The Old Northwest. 

The Beginnings of Our Colonial System. By B. A. Hins- 
dale, Ph.D., LL.D., Professor in the University ofMich- 

Ul. Neiv edition, revised. ./JO pp.; $I*J5* 

The only ade jnate monograph on the development of" a seciion which is ao OMcfc a his- 
toric unii 1 :id. 

Historic Pilgrimages in New England. 

B) EDWIN M. Bacon. 476pp., 131 illustrations. $l.JO t 

I rtgland and its high-soulcd founders, told picturesquely to 
readers who are supposed to be standing on the verv spots where the stirring Colonial drama 
Of keenest interest to all lovers of Yankee-land. 

The Rescue of Cuba. 

An Episode in the Growth uf Free Ciovernment. By 
Andrew S. Drapi , l.l.-D., President of the Univcrsk 

Illinois. 192 pp- J 

A judicious and inspiring pre iin as another and imp 

step in 1 human liberty. The I . the War, BJ 

problems it ution. "It reads like a novel, ian Abbott. "It is 

accurate," s.i\s (.'en. Wesley Merritt. 

I Isslj Mr* so! i /> , .r will be •■. . 

&tltoer, Surtoett an* Company 

j^cui Porn Boston Chicago 



